


Peace of Mind

by Elsey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amputation, Babysitter Sam, Captain America Boxers, Cas is back, Destiel - Freeform, Drunk Cas, Drunk Dean, Epilogue, F/M, Gore, Grace - Freeform, Guilt, Hung Over Cas, I promise, M/M, More alcohol, Sorry Not Sorry, Sorry again, cas and dean on a case, continuing story, deancas kiss, ending, healed crowley, it actually hurt me to write this, major death, new characters - Freeform, shower, soulless, this time it's really done, totally finished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsey/pseuds/Elsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean pieces together who he ended up with on a lonely night in a bar, causing him to reevaluate his beliefs and thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mismatching Boxers

Soft light spilled in from the motel curtain, beams warming a sleeping Dean Winchester’s back. With a groan, Dean rolled over, letting out a load _Fuck_ when he came in contact with the floor. Since when did he sleep on the right? And why was he bare-ass naked? Dean sat up groggily, shaking his head, trying his damnedest to remember the previous night. Bottles of beer littered the floor, and Dean cracked his head on the nightstand trying to stand, sending him right back to the floor, groaning.

What the fuck was going on?

Dean closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He tried to sit up, but his head was pounding. Since when did he get hung over? Dean decided the floor was nice enough, laying down with his hands under his head. He surveyed the ceiling, noticing little smudges and designs. Dean stopped breathing when he heard the sheets move. He must’ve brought a girl home- she would have to wait until figured out just what the fuck had happened.

He ran his hands over his face, rubbing his eyes, trying to clear his foggy brain. The last thing he remembered was being at the bunker with Sam; it was a start. He fought for the memories, but they were being frustratingly elusive. He closed his eyes for a moment.

His eyes snapped open and he sat up stock-still, not caring about his pounding head. He remembered. Jesus H. Fuck, he remembered. He stared at the sleeping form, mouth aghast.

 ...........

“Sammy, don’t wait up, I’m heading to the bar!” Dean yelled from the front hall of the bunker. He could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes.

“We have more liquor than this entire town in here, Dean. Why the sudden need for fresh air?” Sam asked, making his way from the study to wherever Dean was.

“Maybe it’s not the drink I’m after,” Dean said, winking. Sam scrunched his face up, covering his ears.

“Dude! Please! At least _try_ to stop inducing my vomit!” Sam said, shaking his head. Dean laughed.

“You know you live for my crazy nights, Sam,” Dean said, heading to the door.

“Do not! I can have my own crazy nights, thank you very much!”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Rent-A-Porno!” Dean yelled with a final wave. He heard Sam scoff before heading out to get Baby. Dean drove the whole way into town with his speakers blaring and his head halfway out the window. God, he needed to get laid. He needed to get out. He needed to _breathe_. One night off wouldn’t be the end of the world, that he could guarantee. Dean felt good for the first time in a long time; he was going to be out on the town, he and Sam seemed half stable, and he had a hankering for getting shit faced drunk. Not that any of that was new, it was just something he hadn’t known he needed. Not for a while.

Dean parked Baby on the other side of the lot, just in case some teenagers or drunks decided to get crafty. He stared up at the bar, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. He took a deep breath before opening the door to the bar and sliding into a booth near the back. He ordered a beer and a burger, though he planned on getting a lot more than that before the night was over. Dean surveyed the bar, taking a look at his options. Three blondes sat at a table in the middle of the bar, seemingly drunk already. A couple was holding hands in the booth a few down from his, and numerous College age girls were sitting alone at the bar. There was a man placed seated at the bar near the end, looking like he was trying to blend in.

A man in a trench coat.

Dean sprung up from his seat, barely remembering his beer as he practically sprinted across the bar. He caught some swooning glances from the young girls, but made a beeline for the man.

“Cas?” he asked, staring at the lowered head in the light trench coat. A dirty and bruised face turned to face him, moving slowly. Castiel’s eyes widened at the sight of Dean.

“Dean? I didn’t realize… How close am I to the bunker?” he asked absently. Dean dragged Cas out of his seat, gripping him in an awkward hug, the angel accidentally sloshing beer on the back of Dean’s jacket. They both sat down.

“Where the fuck have you been, man?” Dean asked, not sure whether to be angry or happy with Cas. Cas shook his head slowly, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “And since when do angels drink?” Cas flinched. “Cas? What’s going on?”

“I am no angel.”

“What do you mean, of course you’re an angel!”

“No, Dean. I… I rejected the Grace. Only my true Grace can return me to being who I once was.” Dean sat back, letting out a breath of shock.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he said quietly, taking a swig of beer. Cas sighed again.

“It most definitely does suck.” Dean looked at the broken man with sympathy.

“Well, I’m giving you two options, Cas- option one is to pussy out and get shit faced drunk like never before. Option two is to grow a pair and explain to me what the fuck exactly happened, as in everything. Your call, but the second option will happen eventually.” A small smile flickered across Cas’ face.

“I’m half way to shit faced drunk, so let’s, as you say, pussy out,” Cas said, chugging the remainder of his beer before requesting another. Dean snorted and ordered them both a shot of whiskey. Cas made a disgusted face as he threw it back.

“Don’t like it?” Dean asked, grinning at Cas.

“It burns my esophagus,” Cas said grittily.

“That’s the point, man, that’s the point.”

“It seems like a ridiculous thing to do, let alone pay for.” Dean snorted again, taking another shot of the amber liquid. He parted his lips, making a sound of delight. Dean closed his eyes for a moment.

“Feeling drunk yet, Cas?”

“I was feeling drunk after one beer. Now with the whiskey I think I _am_ drunk,” Cas retorted. Dean chuckled.

“You ain’t seen shit, Cas.” Cas looked at Dean with strange eyes, gladly taking another shot of whiskey. It burned less this time.

“How is Sam?” Cas asked after another long silence that lasted what seemed like hours.

“As good as he can be,” Dean muttered.

“You seem touchy on the subject,” Cas noted. Dean nodded.

“We’re… getting better. We’ll never be better, but I think we’re past the worst.”

“You sounds like the sexy wife before she has relations with the pizza man,” Cas commented, making Dean spit out his drink, burning his nose and laughing hysterically. How many drinks had it been? Two beers at least, too many shots.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get you, Cas,” Dean chuckled.

“And why not?”

“You’re too fucking great.” Cas blushed faintly, shocked at the warmth in his cheeks. He downed another shot with Dean.

“According to Sam, you can no longer get drunk. Judging by the fact that you seem to be unable to sit up properly, I think we’ve finally proven Sam wrong,” Cas slurred. Everything he said was funny. Even when he was drinking Cas seemed to be able to speak with hilariously perfect grammar. Cas laughed too, though he didn’t know why. Dean looked around the dingy bar.

“What a shit hole,” he muttered.

“Yeah, but thanks to this shit hole we found each other,” Cas retorted, pointing at Dean with a wobbly finger.

“Fuck I’m drunk,” Dean muttered, taking another sip from his beer.

“I’m at a motel down the road if you would like to… to, as humans say, crash,” Cas said, peaking at Dean from over his shoulder. Dean nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. I should definitely not be driving,” he said. “I’m gonna, gonna call Sammy, though. Let him know it’s good.”

“Don’t- don’t mention me. He’ll want to engage in… communications. Best to wait until morning.” Dean nodded. He turned his phone on, scrolling through a few names before he came to Sam’s. He hit the call button. Sam answered in a pissy tone.

“If you’re drunk dialing or butt dialing me, I’ll rip your head off,” Sam groaned, his voice thick with sleep. Dean laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“No, no, Sammy, no. Calm down. No, I’m good. Gonna crash at a motel. Yeah. Good plan,” Dean slurred.

“Fine, I don’t care. Fuck off,” Sam muttered, hanging up the phone.

“Sam? Okay. Bye.” Dean turned to Cas. “Should we blow this popsicle stand?” Cas’ eyebrows knit together.

“I don’t understand that reference,” he said, confused. Dean hiccupped a laugh. He slapped down the money for the drinks, he and Cas stumbling out of the bar, a few people still scattered about.

“How far is this motel? It’s been hours,” Dean complained. They had taken six steps from the bar.

“A block,” Cas said. Dean groaned. Cas could barely walk, so supporting Dean on his left wasn’t helping his balance. They ended up tangled together on the ground on the grass of a small park.

“Get your greasy man hands off of me,” Dean grumbled, face inches from Cas’. Cas stared as Dean’s features quizzically.

“You have an exquisite face, Dean Winchester,” Cas told him with clarity to his voice. Dean studied the man, his friend. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, his eyes heavy with bags, yet still shimmering blue.

“I’ve been told,” Dean said, moving himself closer to Cas. They’re mid sections aligned, and Dean shimmied off of Cas, jumping up drunkenly.

“Control your fuckin’ hormones,” he said, nodding towards the tent appearing in Cas’ pants. Cas laughed.

“I was unaware I had hormones,” Cas stated.

“You’re human now, of course you do.” Cas nodded. Dean nodded. They stared at other, still in the park. Cas moved a few steps closer to Dean. Dean eyed him warily. Dean was now staring Cas directly in the eye.

“How drunk are you?” Cas asked.

“Drunk enough that I won’t remember doing this,” Dean said, bringing Cas’ mouth to his. Cas didn’t complain, practically wrapping himself around Dean’s body. They’re mouths worked in unison, hands frantic, moving from hair to back to waist. Cas moaned as Dean moved his hands under his shirt, ripping the buttons off the front.

“The motel is close,” Cas choked out.

“Not close enough,” Dean growled. Cas gasped when Dean kissed his neck, his shoulder, his _everything_.

“Dean. Motel.” Dean ripped himself away from Cas, barely keeping his off of him as they stumbled to the motel, taking two minutes to fumble the door open and slam it closed.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean panted, tongue shoved into the other man’s mouth. Cas moved his hands from Dean’s back to his shirt, breaking their kiss to shove it over his head, shedding his own coat and shirt at the same time. Dean marveled at the chiseled surface that was Castiel. He had never seen the other man topless. A low moan escaped from Dean as he pushed Castiel onto the bed, hands running from his face to his thighs. Cas moved his hands to Dean’s zipper, Dean groaning and moving his own hands with Cas’. They looked at each other, both seeming to ask the other if this is what they wanted.

Neither stopped their frantic movements.

 ...........

Dean’s face was a mask of horror. He clutched his head, then his hands moved to cover himself in general, realizing _why_ he was naked. Dean felt bile rising in his throat. He quickly stood before crashing back to the floor, head rush pulling down.

“Wha-” he heard from the bed.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , was all that ran through Dean’s head. He desperately grabbed an article of clothes, boxers, and pulled them on, feeling a new wave lf disgust that they were Cas’.

“Where am I?” Dean heard Cas say, a moan following close after it. Dean stayed quiet. Maybe if he was silent, Cas wouldn’t hear him and he could sneak out, pretend he was never there. “Whose clothes are these?” Fuck. “D-Dean? Dean’s boots. Oh my God.” Dean heard springs creak as Cas stood, then thumping as Cas struggled to remain upright. “Dean, where are you?”

“Here,” Dean hissed from the floor, covering his face with his hands.

“Dean, what happened?” Cas asked, moving to stand beside Dean, hand outstretched. He was butt naked.

“Cas. _Clothes_.” Cas flushed, turning and pulling some pants, tripping twice in the process. His face was beet red.

“Dean, I don’t remem-” He stopped, sitting on the bed, face pale as the white sheets. Dean clenched his jaw, dragging himself up onto the bed.

“What can you, you know…” Dean stopped talking. Cas looked at him, mouth agape. They stared for a long moment. Dean’s neck prickled. If he wasn’t so hung over, he would’ve been sprinting to the bar.

“Everything,” Cas finally said, burying his face in his hands.

“How’s your ass feel?” Dean asked, trying to lighten the mood before realizing that was the worst thing that had ever escaped his mouth. Dean groaned and flopped on the bed. “ _Jesus fucking Christ_.”

“Indeed,” Cas responded. “What are we supposed to do about this?”

“We were both drunk out of our minds, Cas. We just moved past it. Like nothing happened. No one needs to know. I need to go,” Dean said, trying to stand, his head splitting.

“Dean.” He turned back. Cas wouldn’t look at him. “I enjoyed last night.” Dean barely heard the words, but they hit him right in the gut. He ran for the bathroom, fiery lava spilling from his stomach into the toilet. When he came out, Cas was fully dressed, minus the underwear. He had taken Dean’s.

“Look, man, it’s your first night human in a long time- I think we should forget about this.” Cas nodded.

“I don’t know what I was thinking before,” he mumbled.

“Good.” Dean pulled his jeans on, trying not to notice as Cas looked at his topless form.

“Can I return to the bunker with you?” Cas asked.

“’Course, Cas,” he muttered, grabbing his fallen keys from the floor, sticking the cool metal to his screaming forehead. Cas was already out the door. Dean took a shaky breath.

He ignored the ache inside of him. The ache deep down, struggling to escape. The ache that screamed ‘You liked it too.’ Dean closed the door on both the room and the ache, moving to catch up with Cas.


	2. Tripped Up By A Trench Coat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is suspicious as Dean and Cas arrive back at the bunker together.

The familiar creak and slam of the driver door on the Impala filled the garage. Dean ran his hands through his hair, a shaky breath escaping him. He noticed Cas sitting in the passenger seat, hands fidgeting, eyes trained on nothing. He seemed to be in another place. Dean crossed in front of the Chevy, snapping his fingers through Cas’ open window. He blinked, eyes focusing on Dean’s face before looking away, shame written in his features.

“Cas, we need a story for Sam,” Dean said, not sugar coating anything anymore. Cas nodded, opening his door and stepping out, head pounding. Dean had downed at least a half a bottle of Aspirin, but Cas had refused. He didn’t know the effects and would rather deal with the ache. For now.

“Dean, I must tell you, I greatly dislike lying,” Cas said softly. Dean’s eyes hardened.

“Well we sure as shit aren’t telling him the fucking truth!” he hissed through clenched teeth. Cas averted his eyes until Dean had regained his composure.

“He will see right through my lie, Dean. I have perfected my stony composure in a vessel, but in a true human form I cannot control emotions displaying across my face. You knew that when I was human before.” Dean nodded slowly. He remembered Cas’ puppy dog face on his first date, and his inability to hide the sadness when it fell through.

“I’ll do all the talking, you just nod your head,” Dean said, piecing a story together in his mind. He was lying to his brother. Again. Great, just what they needed. “Okay… I was in the bar and when I finally spotted you, I was piss drunk, and you were halfway there. We managed to get back to the motel and had separate rooms. Got it?” Cas nodded, his hands playing with the ripped buttons on his shirt. “Shit. If Sam asks, you don’t remember how those buttons ripped.” But Cas did remember. He remembered their crazy, lust filled frenzy- their overall _need_ to be with each other, to interlock. He shook his head to clear it, then nodded towards Dean. He was trying to remain silent so that Dean would not hear the longing in the fallen angel’s voice.

“Should we go in?” Cas asked, nodding his head at the door.

“Yeah, yeah I guess we should.” Dean moved past Cas, opening the door that led from the garage to the bunker. Cas followed close behind.

“Dean.” Cas grabbed his jacket. Dean swung around, eyes slightly curious. “Nothing.” They continued walking.

“Sammy! Sammy, I brought you something!” Dean yelled. Cas held his head at the echo, feeling the throbbing increase.

“Mother fucker!” Dean heard after a crash. “It better be a coffee!” Sam appeared from the study (where else?) with a lamp cord stuck to his foot. Cas had stopped just outside of Sam’s sight.

“Foot, Sam,” Dean said, coughing back a laugh. Sam rolled his eyes, untangling himself from the smashed lamp.

“So? What did you bring?” Sam asked, crossing his arms over his chest expectantly. Dean reached behind himself and pulled Cas in by the wrist, flinching at the memory of doing exactly that last night, dragging Cas back to the motel. Cas stood awkwardly beside Dean, managing a small smile at Sam. Sam’s face broke out into a grin as he closed the distance between himself and Cas, wrapping the shorter man in a bear hug. Cas’ arms hung limply at his side, and Dean motioned for him to hug Sam back. Cas awkwardly patted Sam’s shoulder blades before Sam pulled away, studying Cas with concern as he saw the bruises on his face.

“Hello Sam,” Cas said. Sam smiled even wider, if possible.

“Hey Cas. It’s been too long.” Cas nodded. Sam looked at Dean. “How the hell did you two find each other?” Cas pursed his lips and Dean cleared his throat.

“I was at the bar, completely wasted, and this hot blond moved to leave. Cas was sitting beside her, so I went over. We had some drinks, then went to the motel. Went to separate rooms, drove back here in the morning,” Dean said. Sam nodded slowly, looking from Dean to Cas. Dean seemed too carefree, Cas too rigid, even for an angel.

“Why didn’t you come back to the bunker, Cas?” Sam asked, smile fading and an annoyed look replacing it. Cas lowered his head.

“I rejected the Grace,” he said shamefully. That at least explained his look and stance. Dean, on the other hand, seemed like he was trying too hard to hide something. Again. Sam would figure it out later.

“Shit, Cas; that sucks major balls. Jesus, how long before the Grace rejected?”

“Three days.” Dean’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t known that.

“How did you end up in that bar, then?” Dean asked, his turn to question Cas finally arising.

“I travelled for two weeks, trying to get back to the bunker. I stopped in that bar to start my slow descent into depression when you found me,” Cas told Dean. Dean took a step back. Sam looked from him to Cas and back again.

“What really happened last night?” Sam asked. Cas tensed, Dean twitched.

“Already told ya, Sammy. Nothing eventful, just went on a bit of a bender,” Dean said.

“I-” Sam began.

“Do you have any food? I haven’t had any sustenance besides liquor in two days,” Cas interjected, interrupting Sam. Dean let out a silent sigh of relief. Sam’s composure changed, eyes smiling again.

“Of course, Cas. C’mon, I’ll make you some eggs.” They walked off to the kitchen and Dean crumpled into a chair, pulling out a flask and taking a swig. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, head buzzing. What the fuck was he thinking? This was _Cas_ for Christ’s sake, he was his friend, and Dean was most definitely _not_ gay. He tried to shake his memories of the previous night from his mind, but they continued to creep back in.

“I smell like shit, I’m taking a shower!” Dean yelled, heading to the bathroom.

“Thanks for sharing, Dean, needed to know!” Sam yelled sarcastically from the kitchen. He turned to Cas, who was eating plain pieces of white bread while he waited for his eggs to cook. “I feel like I’m looking in a goddam mirror…”

“What, Sam?” Cas asked, slowing his chewing.

“Oh, nothing. You’re acting like I did in high school during my growth spurt- I nearly ate Bobby out of house and home,” Sam said, smiling at the memory. Cas wiped his mouth, lowering the bag of bread. The silence was nice, just the sizzling of eggs, breathing, and a shower in the distance. “How are you dealing with being human again?”

“Not well. It’s… different this time. Emotions are getting harder to contain, and it is endlessly frustrating to sort through them,” Cas said, staring at a piece of bread like it had just done a backflip before shoving it in his mouth.

“Well Dean and I are pretty good with emotions, so if you need clarification, we’re here, buddy,” Sam said, not thinking too much into his offer.

“Could you give me some assistance at the moment, Sam?” Cas asked, eyeing the eggs as Sam moved the eggs from the pan to a plate. He stuck a fork with them, shoving them in Cas’ direction.

“Careful, they're-” Cas ate the six eggs in ten seconds. “-hot,” Sam finished. Cas looked at Sam with earnest.

“Would you mind, Sam?” Cas asked. Sam shook his head.

“Go right ahead.” Cas took a breath.

“The emotion is… it is odd. I have a sensation in my stomach that is like I have inhaled too much air and it’s swirling around. My chest feels tight, and my head swims… I do not understand, and it is very frustrating. I have only felt this once before when I was human for the first time,” Cas finished. Sam sat back with a grin.

“Did you meet someone last night, Cas?” Sam asked. Cas felt his heart lurch, a very strange sensation.

“No, I did not.”

“Liar.”

“I would not lie to you, Sam.” Cas clutched his head as another pulsing throb made its way through his temple. Being hung over was not a pleasant feeling.

“Hey, you good?” Sam asked with genuine concern.

“Pain is a very strange sensation,” Cas mumbled.

“You never really get used to it.”

“I feel pain in my chest, Sam, but not physical. It is like an emotion and it is very annoying.” Cas knit his eyebrows together in frustration.

“Cas, I think what you’re feeling is love.” Cas’ eyes bugged out of his head. “Or at least a major crush on someone. Are you really gonna tell me _nothing_ happened last night?” Sam scooted closer to the fallen angel. Cas wouldn’t meet his gaze. Cas stood, preparing to leave the room when his trench coat got stuck in his chair, falling from his body as Cas tripped. Sam held a hand over his mouth as Cas gathered himself, leaving the room.

“Nice Cap’n America boxers,” Sam breathed. “They look awful familiar.” A grin twitched on his lips.

………..

“Dean, no bullshit, man. What happened to you last night?” Sam asked, leaning in Dean’s doorway. Cas was passed out in the next room.

“Fuck, Sam, knock much?” Dean quickly pulled on his pants. Sam rolled his eyes.

“We’ve been bunking together for decades, Dean. I’ve seen your boxers. But, uh, not those ones. Aren’t they a little… mature for you?” Sam asked, eyebrow raised at the plain grey boxers. Dean gulped inwardly- he still had Cas’ boxers on.

“Maybe I’m becoming a mature adult,” Dean said, zipping his jeans up and fumbling for a shirt. Sam snorted and shook his head.

“Mature adult my ass. Come on, Dean, we both know you’re lying about last night. What, did you hook up with some chick and forget a condom?” Dean closed his eyes, trying to force the image of a naked Cas out of his mind.

“Not exactly,” Dean said through gritted teeth. He sat on his bed, running his hands through his wet hair. Sam sat beside him. Dean offered Sam a swig from the flask after taking one himself. Sam accepted.

“I don’t want to start turning into Deanna and Samantha, but I wish you’d stop lying to me, Dean. It’s fucking up our lives,” Sam said, passing the flask back.

“What, no Gadreel rage?” Dean asked. Sam took a breath.

“I don’t want to bring that up.” Dean nodded. He stood, pacing around the room, a hand on the back of his neck.

“Look, Sam, some things should really and truly never be spoken of,” Dean said, eyes set and face serious. Sam stood, approaching his brother.

“Cas is wearing an interesting pair of boxers,” Sam said. Dean managed to keep his face stony.

“Good for him for shopping around.” Sam studied Dean. His eyes were emotionless.

“Just fucking say it.”

“We were drunk, Sam, so fucking drunk.”

“Oh my- _fuck, Dean!_ Holy fucking shit. Holy fucking shit.” Sam’s eyes widened and he couldn’t stop repeating those three words. He moved to the door, and Dean stepped in front of him.

“Sam, no, don’t. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ” Dean took a shaky breath.

“How the _fuck_ did that even happen!?”

“We were shit faced, neither of us has any intention of- fuck, Sam! Stop looking at me like that!”

“You fucked Cas. You fucked an angel of the Lord.”

“Fallen,” Dean corrected.

“ _Does it fucking matter?_ ” Dean shook his head, hands shaky.

“I regret it, Sam, I really do. I barely even remembered when I woke up. Listen, Cas can’t know that you know, I made him promise to shut the fuck up about it.” Sam sat down against the wall, mouth parted, unsure of what to say. He had an inkling, but he had sixteen other theories that made sense. What the _fuck_ was happening!?

“Dean, this is huge.”

“No, it isn’t, neither of us… we both want it in the past. Forget everything that happened.”

“He loves you.” Dean froze mid step. He turned mechanically to look at Sam, mouth frozen mid word.

“You’re fucking lying. Don’t you say that. Don’t you say that.” Sam shook his head. “What the fuck is happening? What the _fuck_ is happening? How do you even know that, Sam?”

“He asked me to describe an emotion he had only felt once before. If it wasn’t love, then he’s probably dead right now, judging by the symptoms,” Sam said. Dean was still frozen.

“Don’t tell him you know, Sam. It needs to stop here.” Sam looked at Dean angrily.

“I’d rather you two get together than have this one night stand hanging over all of our heads! How are you even going to look at him?” Sam demanded.

“Sammy, please, I don’t- I can’t… It can’t go any further.”

The two brothers turned to the sound lf clapping in the doorway. Neither had noticed it open, and Dean felt fury burn inside of him as Crowley stood watching them, a smug smile lighting up the demon’s face.

“Well, well, _well_ ,” Crowley crowed. “Isn’t this just _fascinating?_ ”


	3. The Power of the Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas has trouble controlling his emotions in his new human form while Dean loses his temper with Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I did just call this chapter Power of the Shower... Don't judge me!

Crowley groaned in annoyance as Sam held him against the wall, arm shoved into his throat, knife pointed at his face. Dean stood behind him, eyes on fire.

“Now, now, Moosey- don’t want to, em, damage the goods,” Crowley said, glancing down at how close Sam was to kneeing him in the balls. Sam held his position.

“Mind telling us how in the hell you got in here?” Dean demanded. Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Barely a demon, Dean. I’ve got enough human blood flowing in this body to slip right past,” Crowley said, tone implying that this should be general knowledge. “What _I’m_ interested in is that you seem to have had a lovely first date with good old _Castiel_ \- how exquisite. I always called this, you know.” Sam dug the blade into Crowley’s neck, drawing a small stream of blood. Crowley let out a hiss. Dean stepped away, seething. “Seems I’ve hit your sweet spot- oh, wait; Castiel already did.” Sam moved back as Dean ran at Crowley, punching his face again and again, hearing the crack of his nose giving him the greatest pleasure.

“Dean! Dean, enough! Stop, Dean!” Sam yelled. “Dean!” Sam ripped him off of the demon. Dean shook his hand, wincing. Crowley rolled over with a moan, blood spilling down his face. Dean turned as he heard a door opening, Cas throwing the trench coat on as he came out of the room he had crashed in, eyes tired.

“Is that- Crowley?” Cas asked, face confused at the pulpy mess that was the demon’s face.

“What’s left of him,” Sam muttered, dragging Crowley up into a sitting position. Crowley’s eyes were already blackening, but they flickered open, a grin cracking his broken face as he saw Cas. He whistled.

“You look like you just got laid,” Crowley gargled through a mouth full of blood. Cas stood from his kneeling position, freezing in place, eyes staring straight ahead.

“ _Fucker!_ ” Dean yelled, kicking Crowley in the gut. He coughed, slumping over again. Sam gave Dean a disapproving look. Dean ignored it. “Cas? Buddy?”

“How did Crowley enter the premises?” Cas asked mechanically.

“He, uh, says he’s hardly a demon, after sucking down all that blood. Is it possible?” Dean asked. They all ignored the fact that the three of them knew the events of the previous night. Cas was still rigid, staring at the wall, not making eye contact.

“Crowley is mistaken. Drinking another’s blood with not make you like them unless the other is a vampire. Crowley is human; someone has turned him. There is no other way he could be in here,” Cas concluded. Frowning, Dean dragged Crowley to his feet. The man groaned, spitting blood at Dean. Dean didn’t even flinch. Sam and Cas watched as Dean silently pulled Crowley over the threshold of his door and clear across the room; a devil’s trap was on the ceiling above the door. Crowley passed through it. Dean dragged him back out, throwing the limp body on the floor. Sam and Cas shared a look.

“Well fuck,” Dean said. “Someone beat us to it.” Cas was frowning. He still wouldn’t look at Dean or Sam, just the wall. His mind was racing.

“But who would want Crowley human?” Cas muttered.

“Abbadon?” Sam suggested. Cas shrugged.

“I suppose. But it still seems strange.” Sam shrugged now, hoisting the barely conscious and muttering Crowley to his feet. They stumbled to the small sitting area outside of the kitchen. Sam sat him down in a chair, tying him up. Crowley’s head sunk to his chest, breathing shallow. Cas hadn’t moved from the hallway that contained the sleeping quarters and neither had Dean. They were alone.

“Uh, Cas, are you… okay?” Dean asked. Cas finally faced him, eyes empty.

“Of course, Dean, why would I not be?” Dean raised and lowered his shoulders in a half shrug.

“Well, what Crowley said…” Cas’ eyes narrowed.

“Ah yes. What Crowley said. I wonder how he got that information,” Cas seethed. Dean had seen Cas angry before, but not like this. “Is it not just comical that a certain someone would swear me to secrecy about a night that they admittedly enjoyed before denying it, which was another _lie_ , and they find out that the _certain someone_ blabbed their mouth to _Crowley_. Yes, Dean, I am doing just fine.” Cas began to walk away. Dean grabbed his shoulder.

“Cas, please, listen. Sam figured it out, and Crowley overheard… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Everything. Last night, being a douche, letting Sam figure it out… Fuck, I’m just plain sorry nowadays.”

“I am not sorry about the events that occurred last night.” Dean didn’t move.

“Well it’s a two way street and is so far only running one way. Last night was a mistake.” Cas flinched, walking from the hall to the sitting area where Crowley was tied, head feeling heavy. Dean lowered himself to the floor. He closed his eyes, ignoring the slowly growing knot in his stomach, the ache in his chest. He was trying to shut it out, shut out the thoughts. But they kept coming back. There was no way he regretted the previous night. He just couldn’t tell anyone. Ever. It wasn’t about maintaining appearances, it wasn’t about being a straight stud- it was about protecting Cas. Dean had known he harboured feelings for the angel the minute he laid eyes on him, and he also knew what happened anytime he ever cared for a person. They died. No matter what they did, how many times they came back- they all died.

………..

“Sam, what are we going to do about Crowley? How will we possibly stop Abbadon if there is no king of hell to return to the throne?” Cas asked, leaning against the counter in the kitchen, head never seeming to cease radiating pain. Sam chuckled darkly.

“I was about to ask you the same damn thing,” he muttered. Cas eyed Dean sitting in a chair across from Crowley, knife on a table, Dean trying to wake the demon up. “Cas?” Cas looked back at Sam.

“I am sorry, Sam, could you repeat your question?”

“It wasn’t important. I’m, uh, sorry that we all have this uncomfortable circle of knowledge now,” Sam said. Cas’ eyebrows moved together.

“What do you mean?” Sam cleared his throat.

“We all know… about… you and Dean…” Sam said slowly, hands making aimless gestures.

“Ah, yes, the intercourse.” Sam sputtered, coughing as he swallowed his coffee the wrong way. Cas watched him, eyes clouded. “I was unaware that you were uncomfortable with the topic.”

“I assumed you knew; I mean, Dean didn’t want me to know, so…”

“Sam I am a _former_ Angel of the Lord; I can no longer read your thoughts. Your emotions make no sense to me at all, so, as you say, reading your face can be difficult,” Cas told Sam, eyes drifting to Dean. Dean glanced over his shoulder at Cas before quickly turning back to Crowley. “None of this is of any importance anyway; Dean does not care for me in the way this human body lusts for him,” Cas began, Sam flinching at the word lust, “and when I regain my Grace, there will be no emotions left in my form for him. I will be… normal. Once again, I will be normal.” Cas didn’t seem to be sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

“You won’t necessarily lose your emotions, Cas. No angel has ever done this, besides Anna, and she seemed to be able to feel things for others,” Sam said.

“Anna was different. She was born human before returning to her Grace. She had a human lifetime to get used to and appreciate her emotions. I, on the other hand, just wish for them to be gone. To stop this gnawing feeling that surrounds my chest cavity.” Sam felt a pang of guilt for Cas- he was feeling rejection and had no idea how to deal with it. Sam had no idea how to tell him how to deal with it, either. He didn’t know how to make the fallen angel feel whole again, so he decided silence might be the best option. It lasted for a surprisingly long amount of time. Dean stared at Crowley as Sam and Cas sat in the kitchen. Hours passed, but none of them even noticed.

“Fuckin’ starving,” Dean muttered, brushing past Cas to get to the fridge. Cas barely moved. Sam looked at his brother angrily for putting them in this situation. If he could ever just keep it in his pants, life would be a hell of a lot simpler around here. Cas looked distant, like he was focusing on a memory.

“Cas?” Sam asked. He didn’t moved. “Cas? Castiel?” Sam snapped his fingers and Cas came out of his funk.

“My apologies,” he mumbled, moving out of the kitchen. Dean had a beer in his hand and some bread smeared with peanut butter in the other. Sam raised an eyebrow. Dean shrugged.

“It’s, what, ten?” Dean said. Sam didn’t move his facial expression. “At night! Damn it, Sam, let me drink!” Dean moved out of the kitchen to sit in front of the still unconscious Crowley while Sam went to find Cas.

“Cas? Where’d you go?” Sam called. He shut his eyes, listening for some kind movement. He heard a thump in a bedroom near the end of the hall, walking towards it. He opened the door to find Cas approaching it himself, stark naked. “Fuck, man!” Sam turned, shielding his eyes. Cas looked at himself before sighing and wrapping a towel around his midsection.

“I will never understand why humans detest their own bodies,” Cas muttered. Sam turned back, letting out a breath when he saw that Cas was toweled.

“It’s just weird,” Sam muttered.

“It is nothing you have not seen before,” Cas retorted.

“It’s a human thing! We don’t need to see each other’s junk all the time, Cas!”

“I still fail to see-”

“Let’s drop it! I was just making sure you hadn’t left. You’re good?”

“I am not good, Sam, but I am here, yes.” Sam nodded, turning to go. “Sam?” Sam turned back. Cas was looking at the ground, eyes uncertain, seeming to be hashing out some kind of inner demons. “Nothing.” Sam left, Cas heading for the showers. The bathroom door closed behind Sam as he made his way back to Dean.

“Hold up, Sam-well. Your turn to watch fat and ugly. I need some beauty sleep. Wake me if he gets up- it’s been a fuckin’ long day,” Dean said, standing and pressing the flat of the knife into Sam’s chest. Sam nodded, agreeing with Dean that the day had been incredibly long. Dean walked towards the sleeping quarters, Sam taking post in front of Crowley with a book in his hands. Dean heard the shower running and stopped, his mind focusing on the previous night. God, had it really only been a night ago? He closed his eyes, feeling Cas’ hand in his, the touch of his lips. Dean opened his eyes. “Fuck it. Fuck it all.” He made his way down the hall, slowly opening the bathroom door, closing it gently and sitting on the floor. Cas was singing lowly to himself.

“ _…And don’t you know that it’s just you… Hey Jude…_ ” Dean swung his head as Cas sang, covering his face with his hands, visualizing his mother holding him, singing the same song. Cas was killing him without even knowing it. Dean wondered if he even knew the significance of the song he was singing.

“ _Na na na na nananana…. Nanananana… Hey Jude…_ ” Dean mumbled along. Cas’ singing stopped, and soon the water did as well. With a deep breath, Cas opened the curtain all the way, staring at Dean. They locked eyes.

“Why are you in here?” Cas asked in a neutral tone. Dean winced slightly at the fact that Cas was _completely_ naked, keeping his eyes focused on the fallen angel’s slightly bruised face. Shit, he had never even asked about the bruises.

“Nice song,” Dean muttered.

“Your mother used to sing it to you,” Cas commented absently, sitting on the floor in front of Dean, dripping wet.

“How did you-”

“Dean, all those times I told you I can read minds, did you think I was lying?”

“Fuck me.”

“Only if you’re sure.

“What, no! Cas, no.”

“Apparently you do not understand my humour, Dean.” Cas cracked a small smile. Dean out his head against the door and let out a tired laugh.

“Apparently not.” Silence seemed to be a theme for the last twenty four hours. “I really am sorry, Cas.”

“I know, Dean. You have already told me. A few times.” Dean didn’t open his eyes.

“I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about last night. But Cas, you have to understand- anytime I… _care_ about someone; Sammy, my dad, my mom… They all get hurt. Or they die. Or, shit, they go to hell! Twice, maybe!” Cas studied Dean.

“And?”

“And… and what?”

“And what is your point?”

“That if anything more than a drunken night happens, something will always happen, and it’s never good.”

“Dean, I have had my wings forcefully shred from my body. My Grace is around Metatron’s neck. How much worse could it be?”

“Stay with me and you’ll find out.”

“I’ve _been_ with you, Dean. For almost five years now. The worst has happened- I am not an angel. And _I’m still here_. Still in front of you. Why must I be the same as the others?”

“It just won’t work, Cas. I’m not gay, it won’t work.”

“I believe I heard someone say this once, Dean; ‘ _I’m straight, but shit happens_.’ Perhaps that is you. I am an Angel of the Lord. I am meant to be irresistible to all humans, whether male or female. It is natural.”

“Man, you’re super modest.”

“I detect sarcasm, but I am choosing to ignore it. Dean, I wish more than anything to enjoy however much longer I am human, and I would greatly like to enjoy it with you.” Dean opened his eyes.

“Why?”

“Because the feeling that I have had, it is not lust. It is not raging jealousy. It is love, Dean. Pure love. Fighting the incredible amount of emotions that comes along with love is… endearing. But at the end of the day, it is love. I have a great love for you, Dean, and I am unsure if it can be the love of a friend for much longer.” Dean was speechless. Cas shimmied closer to him. Dean reached around himself and tossed Cas a towel.

“I’ll have to kill you of you get sick,” Dean muttered. Cas threw the towel over his head, drying it as best as he could. He stood from Dean, who looked away as Cas’ ass nearly hit his face. Cas moved back to the shower, toweling himself off before coming and sitting down in front of Dean again, this time sitting on the towel. Still nude, though.

“Better?”

“A little.” Dean smiled.

“I would… I would greatly like to… I am at a loss for words.” Dean moved himself a little closer to Cas.

“This has been the longest fucking day of my entire life. I don’t know how my brain has gotten this fucked up this fast, but I must say that I’m impressed.”

“Dean, what are you-”

“Shut up and listen.” Cas did so. “I’ve known that you would mean something to me from day one, Cas. Day fucking one. I don’t want to turn into a girl here, but I feel like Uriel was right. We’re bonded. And we need to figure out boundaries, sure, but for now…” Dean leaned forward and took Cas’ hand in his own. “For now, I think this should be all. The knowledge that we both _know_. We have too much shit to do to go fucking around behind everyone’s back. I want this, I want us. I don’t know why the fuck I’m being so honest right now, but I am. I just don’t know if right now, especially after a drunken fuck-fest, is the right time to start something. Do you understand?”

Cas leaned forward, face nearly touching Dean’s. Dean didn’t know where to focus his eyes, settling on the naked man’s.

“I would very much like to touch you, Dean.”

“Fuck, Cas, didn’t you hear any-” Out of all the interruptions that had gone on that night, this one frightened Dean the most. It was frightening not only because Castiel, ex-Angel of the Lord, a man, was kissing him, but that he was kissing him back. Sober. Aware of what was happening. His father would have shit a brick. Dean moved his hands along Cas’ face, noticing that it must have been a while since he had shaved. Cas moved his own hands to Dean’s hair, pulling him closer and closer. Cas was on his back on the floor, naked as the day he was created, Dean over top of him, both of them breathless. Dean’s hands couldn’t figure out where they wanted to be, running up and down Cas’ body, craving him. Cas was moaning at this point, human emotions in overdrive, body moving with Dean.

“Hey, Cas, have you seen Dean?” Dean and Cas heard from the other side of the door, a knock following. “Cas? You in there?” The doorknob turned slightly and the door cracked, Dean reaching his foot back and slamming the tiny creak shut before Sam could look inside. Cas moved Dean away for a moment, sitting up. Dean was shocked when a sound of frustration escaped his throat. What was happening?

“Just a moment, Sam, I am indecent,” Cas said, standing from the floor.

“Is someone else in there, Cas? And since when do you care about being nude?” Sam asked.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean muttered when he stood, smacking his head off a towel rack. The door opened.

“Cas, you need to be careful, you’re human now. What was that bang?” Sam asked, concerned. His eyes went from a disheveled Dean to a blushing Cas.

“Why are my cheeks so very warm?” Cas asked, ignoring the palpable feeling of _awkward_ and touching his hands to his face.

“Cas,” Dean hissed. “ _Shut up_.” Cas did so.

“So… Everyone’s fucked up and changed their mind?” Sam said, moving towards the door.

“No, Sam, it’s not…”

“It is these human emotions. They override the system, new to them or not,” Cas mumbled, eyes gliding to look at Dean. He shot him a pissed look.

“We don’t have time for this right now… Crowley’s awake. I’m pretty sure you knocked some brain cells out,” Sam said.

“Cas, you get dressed, meet us out there,” Dean said, briskly walking through the door. A grin split Cas’ face when Dean left. Sam shook his head, turning. Cas wore the goofy grin all the way back to his room.

“I think I could get used to these strange urges,” Cas said to himself as he pulled on a pair of Captain America boxers.


	4. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dealing with Crowley, Cas and Dean go to try and find Gadreel, making a small stop on their first night in town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to everyone who follows this, I've had a migraine the past few days and writing has been at the back of my mind. I finally finished the chapter, and have now decided that only two chapters remain! I hope you'll stay with me until it's done!

When Cas emerged from the bedroom that was evidentially his, he heard a string of curses. Frowning, he walked through the lit hallways with a quicker pace. He came upon Sam throwing Dean away from a cackling Crowley.

“Just look at him! All hastily dressed; fresh as a daisy!” Crowley said, torso shaking from laughter. He was healed.

“I… do not understand,” Cas said, face slowly going from confused to lost in ideas.

“We don’t either, and it’s not like the fucker is talking,” Dean yelled, mostly at Crowley.

“Dean, calm down! I’d rather he be healed so we don’t have to listen to his bull shit. Come on, help me move him to the dungeon,” Sam said, moving to grab Crowley.

“Oh, but boys, I’m human now- I have human, em, needs.” Crowley glanced down at his crotch.

“Oh, ew, no, shut the fuck up!” Dean said, his face twisting with disgust. “Fuck, it’s in my head!”

“Not that, you ass, I mean pissing!”

“Just as bad!”

“Dean.”

“Just shut up while we figure this out.

“ _Dean_.”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“I am unsure if he is still human.” Dean walked towards Crowley.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Crowley yelled. He shouted and winced as Dean splashed holy water over his face. Nothing. Sam walked over and cut his leg with the demon knife. “Buggers!” No reaction but blood. Crowley hissed as Sam stuck the blade back in, pulling it out with no reaction other than Crowley swearing. “Satisfied?”

“For now,” Sam muttered, wiping the blood on a tissue before discarding it. Dean eyed the tissue box.

“Dude,” he muttered. Sam shrugged.

“Sometimes I need a Kleenex! Sue me!”

“We are getting off hand,” Cas commented.

“Ah, yes, let’s return to talking about your explicit relationship with one Dean Winchester,” Crowley cooed, eyes dancing. Dean backhanded him. “Bloody hell, not the face again!” Sam gave Dean a look.

“What? It won’t kill him to have a little punishment!”

“Mm, do you like giving out punishments?” Crowley asked, a sly grin on his face. This time Sam thumped the back of his head. “Fuckers, the lot of you!”

“Shut up, Crowley,” all three said in unison.

“So what are we supposed to do about him? What _can_ we do?”

“Keep him on lock down and hope that Abbadon isn’t looking for him,” Cas said.

“And be his caretakers? No way in hell!” Dean protested.

“Who said we’d look after him?” Cas asked. Dean was slightly impressed.

“Well, well, Castiel; torture your thing now?” Cas snapped his fingers deafeningly loud beside Crowley’s ears. Sam flinched at the noise.

“Oh my Lucifer!” Crowley yelled. “Since when can you do that?” Cas shrugged.

“Enough chit chat- let’s lock the fucker down,” Dean said, eyeing Cas. Sam was rubbing his ears.

“Oh come on! Don’t put me down there! You’ll have to clean the mess!” Crowley yelled as Dean ripped him out of the chair. They crossed the bunker, dragging Crowley down to the dungeon, Sam following. Cas wasn’t there. Dean threw Crowley in the same place had been before, closing the door and locking it, Crowley screaming bloody murder at him. He still had his hands tied, but they hadn’t bothered to tie him to a chair or restrain him. They walked back up the stairs, locking and bolting the door to the dungeon as well.

“Well that was… satisfactory,” Sam said, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Jesus fuck, what time is it?” Dean moaned. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Since when did you need sleep?”

“Since- ” Dean stopped himself from saying ‘ _Since I didn’t get any last night_.’ Sam stared at him, waiting for an answer. “Since shut up- it’s been a long day.” Sam nodded.

“I agree with you on that one. A, uh, a lot has happened. Y’know.” Sam gave Dean a small wink and Dean smacked his brother’s head. Sam snickered. “Worth it.”

“Dean? Sam? Is that you?” Cas asked, shoes making loud thumps as he walked towards them.

“I am sorry, I was lost in thought when you left. Trying to decipher this Crowley mystery,” Cas said, frowning. Again.

“Get anything?” Sam asked.

“No, and it is very bothersome.”

“Shit, it’s nearly one. I’m actually really tired all of a sudden. Best leave you two here,” Sam said, faking a yawn and quickly walking to the sleeping quarters. He gave Dean a quick wink as he passes. Dean smacked himself in the face.

“Why do you always seem to abuse yourself, Dean?” Cas asked.

“It’s a sign of frustration.”

“Why are you frustrated?”

“Because Sam is a dick.”

“ _Let me the fuck out of here!_ ” the two beard from below. Cas looked at Dean with annoyed eyes.

“I’ve heard enough of him to last me six lifetimes,” Cas said. Dean laughed.

“Good God, that was actual laughter. How the hell did that happen?” Cas shrugged. Dean yawned, and soon Cas did too. “We should head to bed.”

“If you insist, though I am just as comfortable sleeping alone,” Cas said.

“What- no, Cas! I mean us in general!”

“Ah. Yes, sleep is a mandatory thing for humans. Very strange.” Dean sighed, walking back to the sleeping quarters with Cas on his heals, Crowley screaming from the dungeon.

………..

The week after Dean had found Cas, things were relatively normal. Crowley had been provided a makeshift bathroom in his dungeon, Sam was on babysitting duty, and Cas was heading out with Dean to investigate a possible Gadreel incident.

“What? No, I can’t hear you- Sam, speak up. I don’t give a shit if Crowley won’t shut up! I’m driving! I have to go!” Dean hung up the phone, tossing it in the back with Cas following it with his eyes. They hadn’t spoken of the night in the motel or the shower in eight days. Dean was satisfied with this, but he could feel Cas becoming impatient. There was the usual silence filling the Impala, but it felt wrong- uncomfortable. Dean shifted, feeling odd in the car.

“I would like to attend a formal meal this evening,” Cas said, breaking the silence at long last. Dean eyed him warily.

“Define formal.”

“We wear the Federal Bureau of Investigation-”

“FBI is faster, Cas,” Dean interrupted.

“As I was saying, I would like us to be in formal attire and eat food at a restaurant that is not hamburgers,” Cas managed to finish. Dean let the silence sit for another seven and a half minutes.

“O…kay. I think, that, uh, could maybe, I dunno, work,” Dean muttered. A small smile lit Cas’ face. The silence was now comfortable. Dean had had numerous silences with many different people, but with Cas he never knew what to expect. It was either horrifyingly awkward or like they were still talking. Never really an in between. Dean wasn’t paying attention to the road.

“Dean?”

“Mm?”

“Was that our exit?”

“No… Fucking bullshit!” Dean slammed on the brakes and whipped the car around, driving back to the off ramp. Cas barely flinched; at least there were no cars behind them… _this time_. They had been driving for twelve hours at this point, and if Cas was exhausted, Dean must have been ready to fall unconscious. He didn’t show it. “We should interview that couple that saw the healing.”

“Dean, we need rest. We are now both human and cannot keep up the façade that we are angels. You never were in the first place, and cannot continue to act like you are.” Dean pulled the car over, running his hands over his face. Cas felt his heart thumping in his chest as Dean gave him a sideways look. He glared at the beating cavity.

“Something wrong?” Dean asked.

“My… my heart is being very erratic. I greatly dislike it.” Dean tried not to laugh.

“I think you’re having _emotions_ , Cas.”

“No, Dean, they say quickened heartbeat for no reason is a sign of heart failure. We need to-” Cas stopped when Dean kissed him, melting into his seat, heartbeat working itself ever faster. Dean eventually broke apart, already on top of Cas at that point, both of them breathing heavily.

“Better?”

“No, it has increased yet again; but for a reason this time.”

“Cas, stop worrying-” Cas ripped Dean’s face back his own, cracking their foreheads before their mouths closed over one another’s. Neither noticed the throbbing pain as they twisted in the seat, Cas somehow ending up on top of Dean, trench coat being thrown in the back. Dean ignored his phone ringing the first, second, third time, but groaned in frustration as he reached his arm back to grab it. Cas didn’t slow down, pure _desire_ driving him to kiss Dean’s cheeks, neck, chest. “What?” Dean gasped into the phone as Cas began to unbutton his shirt.

“Dean? You okay?” Sam asked. Dean could practically see the worried look on his face, banishing it as he groaned as Cas’ touch. “Dean!”

“Fine, Sammy, we’re fine. Calm your tits,” Dean muttered. He gave Cas a look that said _stop_ , sitting up with the half-naked fallen angel on top of him.

“Oh, ew, were you- no, God! It’s burned in my brain!” Sam had accepted Dean and Cas before they had, and it had honestly helped the brothers patch their relationship in the past few days.

“Shut up, Sam! What’s so important?” Dean demanded. Cas moved towards him again, hands trailing his figure. Dean let out a flustered stutter.

“Uh, yeah, Crowley’s talking. He says that Gadreel is most likely a trap, and that the description being given out was probably by an angel. He says fuck you, but that’s not very important.”

“Well obviously it’s a trap. Ask him if he has anything we can actually use.”

“Crowley says he can’t contact the demons now that he’s human, but that Abbadon is looking for him. He says he’s hidden here.” Dean heard Crowley in the distance; _And tell that fucking pig to stop trying to get in his boyfriend’s ass for a second!_

“Tell Crowley to fuck off. I have to go,” Dean said.

“Fine, but be careful,” Sam said before hanging up. Dean did the same. He didn’t have a second before Cas’ lips were back on his own. Dean pushed him back.

“Whoa, Cas, stop, we need a place to crash first.” Cas looked angry before slowly moving into the driver’s seat, shaking his head.

“I… I am very sorry, Dean. I am not aware why I acted so ravenously,” Cas said, eyes distant.

“No, Cas, it’s… It’s fine, just… Not the right, uh, time, and, you know…” Dean trailed off. He never could express emotion correctly, and Cas was in a hormonal frenzy like a teenage boy at his first party. They were quite the pair. Cas got out of the car, walking to the passenger side. Dean slid over to the driver’s seat, starting the Chevy up again. As soon as Cas’ door closed, they were on their way to the first motel they could find.

“Dean, this place is less than decent,” Cas said as they opened the door, the smell of mothballs hitting them in the face.

“Yeah, but it was cheap as shit, so it’s where we’re staying,” Dean said, throwing his duffel on the floor beside his bed. It eight at night- they could probably still ask the police about the incident. Dean started to open his bag and pull out his suit.

“Are you still planning on dinner tonight?” Cas asked timidly.

“Shit, I forgot, sorry man… Uh, I guess a meal would do me some good. Burgers?” Dean asked, turning to Cas as he shook his head.

“I would like a dinner that involves food from the earth, Dean.”

“So fries too! Gotcha!”

“Dean, I have never eaten a bean before. May we go somewhere that I can experience the healthy food Sam so often talks about?” Cas asked.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“The date is June 25th, 2014.”

“No, Cas, a dinner date. Like teenagers have.”

“Oh. Yes, a dinner date. I would like that very much.” Dean shifted uncomfortably.

“Public displays of affection aren’t really my thing,” he muttered.

“Nobody here knows us.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“Then what is?”

“That… that I don’t know… forget it.” Dean stood, walking to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?”

“You’re human now too, Cas, take a guess!” he yelled, closing the bathroom door. Cas sat on the side of the bed, hands clasped in his lap and eyes focused on the floor. When Dean reemerged, he was wearing his FBI suit. “I guess one nice dinner in front of strangers won’t kill me.” A small smile came over Cas’ lips as he stood, walking over to look Dean up and down. “But tomorrow we get to work first thing!”

“So noon?” Cas asked. Dean chuckled.

“No, not this time. We’ll need to make up for lost time.” Dean was usually the one who was all over his date, but with Cas being so new to feeling things, he was kissing Dean over and over again, brushing himself against the slightly taller man, running his hands down the suit. Dean shuddered.

“Shall we leave?” Cas asked quietly.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Dean gulped, stepping away from him.

“The last time I was human, it was all pain, Dean. All of it. I wanted to die. But this time, it is the opposite. This time I am feeling the amazing side of human emotions and hormones, and I am in love with the idea of it,” Cas explained, seeming to be able to feel Dean’s confusion of him going from a stone cold angel to a handsy teen boy in less than a month.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Dean said, straightening his tie. Cas held the door open for him, gesturing to the Impala outside of their room. Dean walked forwards, pulling Cas out the door and closing it. Cas pressed a light kiss to his lips and Dean stepped back, eyes searching the parking lot. “Not here. Anyone could see; angels, demons, monsters… Not unless we’re alone.” Cas nodded.

“I understand. You are right. I am just… not myself.” They both got into the Impala. Cas’ trench coat was still in the back, and Dean turned to fix his tie and collar before backing out onto the road. “My first human date. How odd.”

“How odd indeed.”

………..

They drove for half an hour before reaching the first half decent dine in restaurant. Cas was much more excited than Dean as they headed to the entrance, fingers reaching for Dean’s hand, which kept pulling away. His arm slowly moved to circle Dean’s shoulders, and Dean stopped, shrugging it off.

“Cas, not here, we’re on a case; we have no idea who-”

“-could be watching. Yes, Dean, I understand. I apologize.” Cas kept his hands in front of himself as they walked in.

“Hi, welcome to Jane’s! Table for two?” the hostess asked. Cas’ hand was creeping again and Dean flicked it aside. The hostess noticed and smiled warmly. “We at Jane’s accept all forms of race and sexuality, you have nothing to hide here.” Cas’ eyebrow moved upwards as his hand again crept towards Dean, who moved it away again.

“Thanks for the intro, it’ll be a table for two,” Dean said gruffly. The hostess’ smile faded.

“Of course. I’m sorry, here, follow me.” She led them wordlessly to a booth at the side of the restaurant, Dean taking one side and Cas the other. “Your waitress will be here shortly.” The girl left quickly.

“There was no need to be so rude, Dean,” Cas said.

“Well she had no right to assume!” he whisper yelled.

“She assumed correctly!”

“Let’s just stop, okay? Try and enjoy this place.” Cas shrugged and sat back, hands playing with a napkin. A smile tugged at Dean’s lips as he saw the shiny hilt of an angel dagger in Cas’ jacket.

“Hi! I’m Mary, I’ll be your server this evening!” the waitress said, bringing a glass of water. Dean flinched at her name, and Cas shot a look across as him. “Sorry, is something wrong?”

“No, my friend’s mother who died in a nursery fire was named Mary,” Cas said blatantly, still watching Dean. The waitress’s face screwed up in shock and horror.

“Oh my God, I am so, so sorry. I’ll get someone else, I’m sorry!” she said, turning to go. Dean was glaring at Cas, his right hand on his temple. He grabbed the girl’s wrist.

“No, stay, I’m sorry for my jackass of a _friend_ ,” Dean muttered, shooting Cas daggers with his eyes.

“No, really, it isn’t a problem.”

“Seriously, it doesn’t matter, it was a long time ago, you don’t need to leave,” Dean insisted. She turned, her dark eyes glinting in the light.

“All right. Um, can I get you anything to drink?” she asked, her voice low.

“Two beers,” Dean said. She nodded, writing it down.

“We only have Bud Light, is that fine?”

“As long as it’s alcohol at this point.” She nodded, leaving. Dean kicked Cas in the shin.

“Ow! Dean, what is the matter?”

“Ever heard of lying, Cas?”

“I have lied for you in the past, Dean, and I will not do so again.”

“Then at least _don’t_ give my life story out to a complete stranger! Jesus Christ!”

“I was unaware that was supposed to be a private matter.”

“Oh, yeah, let’s just tell the whole fuckin’ restaurant my mother burned to a crisp in my brother’s nursery!” Dean said, loud enough to get some terrified glances from the couple at the table four feet away from them. Dean lowered his voice. “You just need to cool it with the whole encyclopedia of Dean Winchester you have going on.”

“I understand, Dean. It will not happen again.”

“Good.” The waitress came back, putting the beers in front of the two.

“Are you ready to order?” she asked.

“No, uh, we haven’t even looked,” Dean said, finally opening his menu at the same time Cas did.

“Okay, I’ll give you a few minutes,” she said, walking away. Dean watched as she began to talk to the hostess, who seemed to have an entire novel about Dean and Cas to share.

“Let’s go,” Dean said, throwing down money for the beers and a tip, closing his menu and grabbing Cas.

“Why?” he asked as he was pulled out of the booth.

“Something isn’t right.” Dean dragged Cas to the front of the restaurant, nodding at the hostess and grumbling “Sorry, stomach flu” before he and Cas were back at the Impala. Cas stopped him.

“I did not feel a dark presence,” Cas said, glaring at Dean. Dean moved their bodies together, kissing him and cradling his face. Cas responded as Dean knew he would, wrapping his arms around Dean’s body and tangling his fingers in Dean’s hair. They were soon breathing heavily, Dean’s back on the hood of the Chevy as Cas trailed his mouth down Dean’s torso.

“We should… motel,” Dean gasped, moving so that Cas was now on the hood, Dean’s mouth too busy to talk.

“No,” was all Cas managed between groans. Dean began to unbutton Cas’ shirt, undoing his tie and throwing it aside, hands moving to the belt of the dark haired man. Cas made some kind of inhuman noise as Dean’s tongue moved in his mouth.

“Fuck,” Dean gasped, Cas’ hands cold against his chest as his shirt came off. “Seriously. Motel.” Dean stood, moving away from Cas to the driver’s seat before he could say anything more. Cas got in, breathing heavy, hands covering his now too tight pants as he tried to buckle them up again.

“Drive,” Cas said, eyes wild and hair twisted.

There were a hundred things Dean should be doing; hunting Gadreel, angel proofing, demon proofing, questioning civilians. And yet Dean didn't care. It was a rarity when this happened. Dean was finally focused on himself.

Dean didn’t argue with Cas, speeding down the road towards the motel, a smile on his face.


	5. Demons are Useless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean begin their investigation, but soon find that they will be ending it much quicker than anticipated.

Cas’ eyebrows moved closer together as he stared at the newly decaying body.

“Dean, I am unsure how this has happened. I was under the knowledge that Gadreel had healed this human being, not caused his death,” Cas said, moving his eyes from Dean to the body. Dean’s arms were crossed over his suit, eyes distant.

“I’ve seen this before,” he muttered to himself. Cas touched the body’s arm, noticing a strange mark. Dean didn’t notice, trying to remember something that he just couldn’t grasp. “I know I’ve seen this before, I know it.”

“Dean, have you seen this mark?” Cas asked. The coroner came up behind them, looking at the mark as Cas did.

“We have no idea what that means. Is it anything you gentlemen can use?” she asked, looking from Dean to Cas.

“I’m not sure,” Dean said, rubbing his hand along the scruff of his jaw.

“We should send Sam a picture, see what he thinks,” Cas said.

“Is Sam your coroner?” she asked.

“No, my partner’s brother, he is the expert on mythology,”Cas said. The coroner nodded, moving to the other side of the room. Dean pulled out his phone, photographing the mark and sending it off to Sam. His phone rang almost immediately afterwards.

“That was fast,” Dean said as he brought it to his ear.

“Okay, first off, Crowley’s a bitch and I hate you. Secondly, we’ve seen that mark on another hunt. It was when I was possessed by Meg, and Bobby had to burn it off, remember?” Sam asked.

“I knew I’d seen it before! But why would there be a binding spell on this poor son of a bitch?” Dean asked. “Can angels use them too?” Dean directed his gaze at Cas, who shrugged.

“Perhaps, but we have never had a need to, we always find willing participants.”

“Maybe Gadreel and Metatron are working with demons,” Sam suggested from the phone.

“ _Abbadon isn’t that stupid!_ ” Crowley yelled from the background.

“She might be getting desperate, maybe she doesn’t have many options at this point. The demons certainly did like Crowley for some reason,” Dean suggested. Cas slowly shook his head.

“But why heal this man, just to have him die?”

“Maybe he was a true vessel for someone, but wasn’t too willing until he was healed. And then they had to make sure the angel stayed inside of him, so they branded a binding spell?” Sam suggested. Cad was pressed against Dean’s ear at this point.

“You can put that on speaker, I won’t share your secrets,” the coroner called.

“We’re fine,” Dean said, turning back to the phone.

“No need to be rude, Squirrel,” Crowley said, voice louder.

“I put it on speaker,” Sam muttered.

“Yes, poor Moosey, calm down,” Crowley said, voice right by the phone.

“I hope you have him tied up,” Cas commented.

“Well there’s a knife by his throat, so I think we’re good,” Sam said.

“Sorry, who’s tied up?” the coroner asked, moving closer. Dean eyed her warily.

“Just a joke,” he said, watching her movements carefully. She shrugged and moved back a few steps. Dean elbowed Cas and nodded his head towards the coroner. He reached into his jacket, hand on the demon knife. Cas reached for his blade. “Thanks, Sammy, something’s come up, gotta run.” Dean hung up the phone, moving slowly towards the coroner. He pressed the knife against her back and she didn’t move an inch.

“Winchester,” she said, slowly turning, a smile lighting up her black eyes.

“Shitface,” Dean said back. The demon laughed.

“Castiel, how nice to see you. No wings, hm? How’s that treating you?” Cas felt rage fill up inside of himself.

“Cas, buddy, this is a meat suit, not just a demon. Try and be calm,” Dean muttered lowly. Cas’ hands were clenched around the hilt of his blade, eyes burning into the demon’s, who smiled back.

“I’ve been hearing things about you, Castiel,” she said, her eyebrows raised. He slowly began to drag his blade out, hanging it by his side menacingly. The demon let out a short laugh. “You two don’t scare me. I talk, I die. I don’t talk, a small amount of torture before Castiel is enraged and kills me anyways. It’s very simple.” Dean shrugged. She had a point.

“Gadreel probably wasn’t even here. The witnesses were demons, it was a trap the whole time,” Dean mumbled to himself. Cas shook his head.

“And here I thought Sam was the smart one,” the demon sneered.

“So did I,” Dean said. They locked eyes.

“Are we wasting our time, Dean?” Cas asked.

“I’m not sure yet. Tell me… Andrea, would you rather have your loyalty to Crowley or Abbadon?” Dean asked.

“Abbadon, of course,” she answered hastily. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure?” he asked. Cas shifted the angel blade.

“Of course I am,” she snapped.

“Really, because I can get the real king of hell on the phone right now and you can say that to him yourself," Dean said, pulling out his phone. The demon flinched.

“No need to do that. It’s not like he’s a demon anymore,” she muttered. Cas’ head snapped towards her.

“How do you know that?” he demanded. The demon scoffed.

“Everyone knows that,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have places to be.” Dean stabbed her in the stomach with the demon knife as she began to leave her vessel, smoke stopping at her mouth. Her eyes screamed with pain as she made a gurgling sound, electricity snapping as she fell to the ground, hands closed over the wound where the knife had been. Dean wiped the blood on his pants, frowning as he made his way to the door.

“Dean?” Cas asked, touching his shoulder. Dean ripped away from him.

“Fuck, we could’ve used her!” he shouted. Cas shrunk back slightly when Dean whipped a tray across the room.

“Dean, your anger is becoming uncontrollable. It is rather unsettling,” Cas said quietly. Dean sucked a deep breath in through his mouth, letting it out slowly before glaring at Cas.

“We should leave before more demons get here. I’m sure this one sent out a mating call,” Dean said, tucking the knife away and heading for the door. Cas put his own blade away, following Dean. They attempted to act nonchalant, waiting for police to come running at them. “Dumb bitch must’ve disabled the cameras in there.” They walked out the front door of the hospital and made their way to the Impala, both searching the area for possible demons.

“Dean,” Cas muttered, grabbing his elbow and turning it. A woman in a wheelchair was clutching a freshly wrapped pink bundle in her arms, a man smiling down at her and the infant as they made their way from the doors to the parking lot. The woman looked up from the baby, making eye contact with Dean, her eyes going pitch black. Dean’s hand wrapped around the knife and he advanced forwards.

“Sir, take the baby,” he said, knife behind his back. Cas fumbled, flashing his badge.

“What’s going on?” the man demanded, obviously confused.

“Either you take the baby, or I will,” Dean said. The man stepped around from behind the wheelchair.

“Honey, get in the car,” he said. She began to rise, but Cas moved quickly, dodging the man and holding the demon down, hurriedly grabbing the sleeping child with the other hand, putting her on his shoulder. “ _No!_ ” The man lunged for Cas, who sidestepped him. Dean ripped the demon out of the wheelchair, throwing her on the ground. The man gasped as her eyes changed.

“Take the baby and drive,” Dean said, demon knife in his hand. Cas had the angel blade in his right, the left cradling the small infant to his chest. The man stood shakily, looking from the baby to his wife, face torn.

“What is happening?” he whispered hoarsely.

“ _Take the fucking baby and drive!_ ” Dean yelled. His face cloudy, the man snatched the child from Cas, hurrying away. The demon made a noise of frustration, opening her mouth as Dean snapped a pair of demon-proof handcuffs on her. She screamed, wringing her hands in them. “Get the fuck up.” Dean dragged her to her feet. Cas dragged her over to the Chevy while Dean opened the trunk, the Devil’s Trap freshly painted on the roof.

“No! _No!_ ” she screamed, thrashing as Cas tossed her in.

“Evelyn!” they heard, turning as the man came back, baby now gone. Cas closed the trunk, Dean running at the man, who violently swung his arms. Dean tackled him, sending him to the ground, arm at his neck.

“Listen to me! _Listen to me!_ It’s not your wife! It’s not Evelyn! You saw the eyes! It’s a demon,” Dean yelled, looking around for any possible witnesses.

“You’re crazy!” the man yelled back, legs thrashing as he spit at Dean.

“I’m not! You saw it. You know it’s true. Listen to me; we can help her. But we need to take her away. We can get it out of her and get her home to the baby. But you have to trust us!” Dean replied, voice raised. “You have to have some faith.” The man slowed his attempts to be released, eyes full of fear and longing, locked on the trunk of the car, seeming to lose himself with every scream the demon let out while trapped.

“He’s telling the truth,” Cas interjected, moving towards them.

“How can you help her? We- we just had a baby! Things were going well! She… she had cancer, and she got better, and now we have Leah, and it was better… It was better!” he said, tears in his eyes. “Get off me.” Dean stood hesitantly.

“You need to take that baby of yours and go home. We’ll find you. We’ll bring her back. That’s a promise.” Dean’s eyes were set and the man looked from him to Cas to the trunk.

“So it’s real, then?”

“What?” Cas asked.

“Everything? Heaven, hell, angels, demons… God and the devil?” he asked, voice low. Dean nodded.

“Everything. We need to go now. We’ll find you,” Dean said, turning away.

“Wait!” the man called, hurriedly pulling out a business card with trembling fingers. “My name is Aaron, Aaron Whise. Please, my wife… Just, just help her, please.” Cas looked from Dean to man. Dean took the card. The man wiped his eyes, leaving.

“Something isn’t right. That man was much too accepting,” Cas said, moving next to Dean. Dean saw Aaron check on the baby before turning, giving him one final look, and leaving.

“No. That right there is the face of a desperate and confused man. That’s the face of my father, the night my mother burned. He had no other option,” Dean said, leaving Cas’ side and getting into the Chevy. As they pulled out of the parking lot, thumping galore coming from the trunk, three police cars roared in, Dean and Cas quickly driving away. Dean pulled out his phonw.

“Dean? How’d it go?” Sam asked.

“Tell him I say hi!” Crowley yelled.

“Fuck off, I’m sick of your nonsense!” Sam yelled to Crowley. “When are you coming back? I can’t take this much longer.”

“Sam, it isn’t angels, its demons. All of it. They had the witnesses, the coroner, they killed the guy and had a binding mark… We have one in our trunk, she was posing as a new mother. The father and baby are fine, don’t worry.”

“Holy shit,” Sam said. “That’s, uh, quite the story. Holy shit.”

“What? What happened?” Crowley asked.

“As if you don’t fucking know!” Sam shot back.

“Hello! Human!”

“Hey! Pull your heads out of your asses and try and come up with something here! I have to go, I promised a man his wife,” Dean said, hanging up the phone. Cas looked at him from the passenger seat, toying with the buckle across his torso.

“I am unsure if we can exorcise this demon without killing the mother, Dean,” Cas said.

“Why?” Dean demanded, eyes moving from the road to Cas.

“There was a binding spell on the previous demon, so I am sure this one does as well. By the time we find it, the demon will most likely have killed the host. She may have been dead already, depending on how violent the childbirth was.” Dean was silent before smashing his hand into the steering wheel.

“Fuck!” he shouted. Cas remained silent in the other seat. “Mother fucking dick shits! Why can’t they just leave the innocent alone?”

“I do not know, Dean.”

“Fuck!” he yelled again. All was quiet besides the odd thumping in the back. They were soon back at the motel, Cas making sure the parking lot was clear of prying eyes while Dean moved to the trunk. The demon had nearly totally bit off the woman’s lower lip, a mangled mess left behind. She spit blood at him. “Chill the fuck out, Evelyn, I’m not in the mood.” Dean ripped the demon out by her hair, slapping her mouth with a piece of duct tape. They went inside and Cas quickly put a chair in the middle of the devil’s trap that was painted on the floor. Dean threw her onto the chair, quickly tying her up, leaving the handcuffs on. He pulled out the demon knife. “See this? I know how to use this to make your ugly demon ass squirm in agonizing pain, so if you make a single sound that _isn’t_ in response to a question I ask, this is going directly in your thigh. Got it?” She shot daggers at Dean with her eyes, eventually nodding. Dean ripped the duct tape off and she sneered at him. He waved the knife around.

“I see one bed only,” the demon scoffed. Dean ripped his hand down, stabbing the knife deep into her thigh. She put her head back, choking down a scream, eyes tearing up. Dean saw blood being spit from her mouth as she bit into her cheek.

“Sorry, what was that?” Dean asked. Cas grabbed his shoulder, moving him across the room.

“Dean. You mustn’t be angry with the creature. It is vile and horrible in every way, but we need it. It’s your choice on whether that woman lives or dies,” Cas said.

“It’s like you said, Cas; she’s probably dead already.” Dean moved away with deadened eyes, knife in hand. Cas was frozen, watching Dean. He had seen this man exactly four times; once in hell, once torturing Alistair, the man in purgatory, and when he held the blade. Cas had been watching from above, not intervening for fear of making it worse. He watched Dean advance on the demon, veins filled with ice as the man approached.

“Dean.” He turned back. “Make sure this is the right choice.” He turned towards the demon, whose eyes showed pain and at the same time enjoyment, as if she was goading Dean on.

“Why does Abbadon want us here?”

“Go fuck yourself.” Dean stabbed the knife back into her leg. She let lose a small whimper, body convulsing towards the wound.

“Did Abbadon send you?”

“I bet you like it in the ass, Winchester, just like your daddy,” she hissed. Dean reached forwards, twisting the blade. She let lose a small gasp, followed by moaning.

“Is Crowley behind this?”

“Hey Cas- does it feel good when he fucks you? I bet it does.” Dean ripped the knife out, walking over to Cas and holding out his hand. Cas gave him the angel blade. Dean went back to the demon and put it in front of her. “Nice stake, dickwad. Good luck hurting me with it.” Dean very carefully positioned the blade above her knee, sliding it up into the flesh, making sure to be cautious of the larger veins as he did so, Evelyn in the back of his mind. Her leg flashed yellow, blood leaking onto the carpet. The demon screamed this time, body thrashing. Dean left the blade where it was.

“Is there a master plan?”

“Kill me. Kill her, just do it,” she gasped. Dean began to slowly twist and turn the angel blade in her leg, electricity shooting up her body as she writhed and screamed, his eyes locked on her face.

“Give me my answers.” She spit blood at him. Cas walked up behind her, taking the demon blade and slowly twisting it into the back of neck. She screamed, throwing her body against the restraints. “Give me. My answers.”

“I don’t know who sent me! I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know! Please!” she screamed. “I don’t know! _I don’t know!_ ” Dean stopped twisting and Cas ripped the demon blade out. Dean grabbed the woman’s sweat soaked hair, intentionally moving his leg to rub against the angel blade.

“What _do_ you know?” he demanded, voice icy.

“I… I was supposed to watch for you. I- I’m the back up. Please, they wouldn’t tell me anything, I’m low on the list, I don’t even know the coroner’s name. Please, please, just kill me, please!” she screamed, kicking her uninjured leg.

“I think she is being truthful, Dean,” Cas said, staring at the demon’s face.

“It’s a demon, Cas, they lie. Did Abbadon send you?” Dean demanded, kneeing the angel blade deeper. She screamed again. In the back of Dean’s mind, he wondered why no one in the motel reacted. No one else was staying there, but he assumed someone might here, so he pulled his knee back. Her back had been arched during her thrashing fit, and she now lay slumped against the chair, low sobs escaping here.

“I was never told if it was even a demon controlling this! I’m given a job and I take it!” she yelled. “You have to believe me. I don’t know anything.”

“Was it an angel or a demon? I’m running out of patience,” Dean said, slowly moving his hand towards the blade. She flinched.

“I don’t know. It could have been either. I don’t know, I don’t know!” Dean stood back and looked at Cas. He nodded, moving forwards to exorcise the demon from the woman. Dean’s head was spinning all of a sudden. He moved to the wall and sat, his mind focusing on the blood and screams. Dean ran his hands through his hair, focusing on breathing, trying to get the images from hell out of his mind. The feeling of the blade in his hands, the sheer power…

“Dean! _Dean!_ ” Cas yelled, trying to get his attention while untying the no longer possessed woman. Dean rose mechanically, walking over to the devil’s trap, eyes distant. Cas stopped trying to get his help, instead moving the woman from the chair to the bed, carefully removing the angel blade when she was laid out. The woman’s eyes snapped open and she let out a scream that Cas muffled with his hand. “Remain calm, Evelyn. My name is Castiel, and this is Dean. You are safe, Evelyn.” She looked at him with frightened eyes before they rolled back in her head. “She needs to go to the hospital.” Dean was standing away from Cas, jacket removed and sleeves rolled up. His arms were spattered with blood. “Dean, please, I need you!” Cas moved over to him, slapping him across the face. Dean’s eyes widened and he looked over from the woman to Cas. He was shaking.

“Cas?” he asked. “Fuck, I zoned out. Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

“Dean, she needs a hospital. We need to hurry.”

“Why didn’t anyone hear her scream?” Dean asked, staring at the bloody mess that was the woman.

“Dean, she needs a hospital!”

“This was a waste of fucking time, we got nothing from that demon,” Dean said to himself.

“No, we now know that this could be either of the two sides. We know that they aren’t telling their soldiers something. There’s a chink in the armour, Dean, we just need to find it,” Cas said softly. Dean nodded. He went over to the woman and carefully picked her up. Cas moved to the door, opening it wide so that Dean could carry the woman to the car.

“It’ll be okay,” Dean whispered.

……….

“What the hell did you do to her?” Dean heard as Aaron Whise ran towards them. The baby wasn’t there. Dean felt his stomach drop, realizing what should have been the best day of this man’s life was now the worst.

“Aaron, please, she’ll be okay,” Cas said. Dean sat down on a chair in the hall, head in his hands. He itched for the flask, desperately trying to ignore the urge.

“No, I want to see her!”

“Aaron, the demon did damage, and a lot of it. Please, remain calm, she is in surgery.”

“Surgery!? What the fuck did you do to her?” He moved last Cas to Dean, fury flowing through him. He grabbed Dean’s shirt, throwing him against the wall. Dean didn’t react.

“Put me down,” he said, tone steely. Aaron ignored him.

“What did you do to my wife!?”

“What I had to, Aaron! She’s alive, isn’t that enough!?” Dean yelled, getting a look from two nurses. Cas placed a hand on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Please, try and be calm. We did all we could,” Cas said. Aaron sunk into a chair.

“Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. The baby’s at home with my mother, all Evelyn wanted to do was… was to come home… Jesus Christ.”

“You listen to me, Aaron. You know now. You now have knowledge that barely anyone else on the planet has. And you can’t ever tell anyone. I’ll keep it brief here- demons can’t cross salt, holy water burns, Google devil’s traps. We have to go. I promise you, Aaron, I _promise you_ ; she will get home to that baby.” Dean turned, grabbing Cas’ arm and dragging him away from the sobbing man.

“Sir! Sir, we need you to stay!” Dean heard, followed by running footsteps. “Sir, please wait for the police!” Cas flashed his badge.

“Ma’am, we need to get back to the scene, please remain calm,” he said, voice crumbling as he lied. The nurse stopped chasing them. Dean didn’t let go of Cas’ arm until they were in the car. He clutched his head, leaning over the steering wheel. Cas’ hands hovered, unsure of what to do to help. “Dean, please, what can I do?” he mumbled.

“My head, Cas, my head… Something isn’t right,” Dean whispered hoarsely, hands ripping through his hair. Cas reached in his pocket to find his phone, dialing Sam.

“Cas? Where are you? What happened?” Sam demanded.

“Sam, something is wrong with Dean. He is acting as you did when you would previously get your premonitions,” Cas said. Dean sat up and took Cas’ phone, shutting it. His eyes were dark. “Dean. Look at me. Dean!”

“I was always meant to become this,” Dean said, turning to Cas. “I was always meant to hurt, to bleed, to kill. You need to leave.”

“I am not going anywhere. Dean, please, I need you to come back.” Dean’s expression was stony. Cas leaned over, placing his hands on Dean’s face and pressing their lips together.

“You need to leave, Castiel,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth.

“Forget the blade, Dean,” Cas said, eyeing the Mark of Cain. It was slowly turning red. “Stay with me, Dean.” Dean’s eyes turned to Cas, reddened from anger. He slowly let out a breath, throat closing over near the end, a low sob escaping.

“What is happening?” he whispered. Cas squirmed in his seat.

“I don’t know.”

………..

“Cas?” Dean asked, sitting up from the floor. “Why am I down here?” Cas sat on the bed.

“You said you would prefer to sleep on the floor, so I left you,” Cas said, sliding off the bed to join him. “This carpet is filthy.”

“Amen.” A few heartbeats passed before Dean opened his mouth again. “I need to get the blade, Cas. I need to end this and give the mark back to Cain.”

“Dean, I am unsure if giving the mark back is possible,” Cas said softly.

“I don’t care. I’ll find a way.” Cas chuckled lightly.

“You always do.” They sat side by side on the rough carpet, Cas occasionally moving his hand to touch Dean but thinking better of it. In the end, he opted to place a light kiss on his forehead before sitting back. Dean turned to him with a tired smile, and they sat in content.

Cas shielded his eyes as a light moved outside of the motel. He assumed that it was finally more occupants for the dingy place, but as he tried to keep the light away, it grew brighter, brighter, brighter.

“Cas, what is this?” Dean asked, shielding his own face with his hand.

“I- I do not know!” Cas said. A ringing filled the room and Dean moved to cover his ears, Cas still opting for his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck!” Dean yelled, rolling onto his side.

“Dean-”

The ringing stopped. The light was gone. Dean rolled back into a sitting position.

Cas was gone too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God damn, one chapter left. Thanks to all who have stayed this long!


	6. Not all memories are mandatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel awakens to find himself in a room, demanding answers. But does he really want them?

White light filled the room. It was everywhere, all at once, seeming to be screaming into Castiel’s mind. He struggled against the light that seemed to paralyzing, his brain on fire, eyes squeezed shit.

“ _Castiel_ ,” he heard in the distance. “ _Castiel, Castiel, Castiel…_ ”

“D-Dean…” he mumbled, head ripping from side to side. “ _DEAN_!”

“ _Castiel. Castiel, open your eyes._ ” His eyes seemed to be glued together, the light never ending, burning into his brain. He groaned, hissing at the violent burst, the light warping itself in his brain. “ _It’s not real, Castiel. Open your eyes._ ” With a final burst of energy, Castiel flung his eyes open, finding that he was restrained, sweating and in a strange room.

“Dean,” he rasped. He felt as if he hadn’t had water in a millennia. There was a woman leaning over him, her white blonde hair barely touching his trench coat. “Dean?” He looked around his, eyes scorching, trying to find the Winchester. He locked eyes with the woman, finding that her own were full of sympathy. Not worry, anger, fear; sympathy. Castiel’s gut was churning, panic rising in his throat. “Wh- where is he?” The woman looked away, seeming to have to compose herself before turning back.

“Castiel, what do you remember?” she asked softly, blue eyes shining bright against her porcelain skin. Castiel studied her. If he didn’t know any better, he would say she was an angel. But that was impossible- all the angels had fallen, none of them looked like this. He struggled to remember her question.

“Sister?” he asked, eyes scraping against the sockets as he turned them to watch her stand. She lightly pressed her fingertips to his forehead. Castiel sucked a deep breath in, feeling saliva in his mouth and water return to his eyes. His whole body felt new, refreshed. He flexed his arms under the restraints, looking quizzically at the woman.

“Do you remember me, Castiel?” He shook his head slowly, eyes looking down as he struggled to remember anything other than Dean and a light. “Castiel, I am Ari, your sister.” He looked at her, studying her body, trying to remember anything about her. He couldn’t.

“I- I am sorry,” he mumbled. “Where is Dean Winchester?” She wouldn’t look at him.

“Ari. Where is Dean Winchester?”

“Castiel, please, try and relax. Close your eyes, perhaps your memories will return to you if you are under less stress,” she said, fingers again reaching towards him. He shook his head violently.

“No! Do not touch me!” he commanded, voice menacing. Where had this anger come from?

“Be calm, Castiel,” she said, but moved away from him, wringing her hands. She paced the room, Castiel’s eyes glued to her.

“Where is Dean Winchester?” he asked again. Her eyes again radiated a sympathetic look.

“Do you know how long it has been since you were in that room with him?”

“What do you mean?” She took a long, deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. They opened slowly and she watched him, warily moving across the room.

“Castiel, it was fifteen years ago that you were in that room with Dean Winchester.” He was silent, head turned as he tried to process the information. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, trying to wrap his mind around the idea. “Fifteen years is nothing, Castiel, you have been around for millennia. A fifteen year span must feel like a week to you.”

“You do not understand! _You do not understand_! Fifteen years is… is a lifetime, to humans! A lifetime. Dean, you must take me to him, allow me to explain…”

“Castiel,” she said softly. He turned from the floor to her, eyes feeling as if they were growing wet. “I do not think you understand. You were _missing_ for fifteen years. We did not know if you were alive.” Castiel froze, eyes distant, mind reeling.

“I do not understand, I am human, I should be dead,” he whispered, voice low.

“You are not human, Castiel, we discovered that when we found you.”

“How?”

“We do not know.” She was silent, Castiel’s head shaking as he mumbled incoherent things.

“Take me to Dean Winchester.”

“No.”

“Take me! Take me now! He must know that I did not leave him!”

“Castiel, you do not remember what happened, you must wait until you are stronger. You cannot break out of these restraints; you are not well enough.”

“I do not _care_! _Let me see him_!”

“Castiel! Listen to me!”

“No, you listen to me! If it has truly been fifteen years, Dean will hate me. He will want to know why I left, why I abandoned him! I cannot allow him to hate me any longer! Release me! Take me to him!”

“You haven’t yet asked about Abbadon or Metatron.”

“Well, Ari, I am not dead, so they must be. I do not want to hear it from you, I want to hear it from Dean. Take me to him.”

“It is very strange, that you kept your emotions after becoming human. You are a rarity, Castiel.” His eyes blazed, his fists clenched. He wrenched his body from the restraints, ripping himself towards his sister, one arm against her neck and the other on the hilt of her blade, ripping it from beneath her clothing. Her eyes did not show fear, and no one tried to stop Castiel.

“Take me to Dean Winchester.”

“No.”

“Take me. _To Dean Winchester. NOW!_ ”

“Castiel, you are not prepared to face reality, you are not ready to know!”

“To know _what_?”

“I cannot tell you.” Castiel began to dig the angel blade into her side, eyes furious. She gasped; Castiel could feel her Grace against his leg.

“Take me. To Dean Winchester.”

There was a quiet ruffle of feathers. Castiel still had the angel blade in his hand, and he was in a very green field, trees surrounding him. The wind picked up slightly, sending long strands lf white blond hair towards Castiel.

“I do not understand,” he said, eyebrows knitted together. She ran her hands over the front of her jacket, eyes focused on anything but Castiel.

“We must walk from here. You should be given a moment to recognize this place,” she said, and they began to walk along a rutted dirt road. Castiel’s hand gripped the angel blade tightly as he followed Ari, head swimming. They came to a black and rusted gate. Castiel’s heart was pounding in his ears.

“No,” he choked, knees feeling weak.

“I told you, Castiel, you are not ready,” she said in a steady voice. She opened the gate and he entered, looking around at the field with knocked over stones and scattered wood. He sunk to his knees when he saw the one remaining cross.

“No,” he gasped. “No, no, no, _NO_! You are lying! You are lying to me! You are lying!” he screamed, hands ripping through his hair, body curling to his knees. Hot tears fell from the angel’s eyes. He screamed, face contorted and torso shaking with heaving sobs.

“I told you, Castiel, you are not ready.”

“You are lying, you are lying, you are lying,” he said again and again. Ari placed a hand on his shuddering shoulder and he ripped it away from her. She stood back, unsure of how to handle the situation. Castiel could barely see, fury and despair ripping through his body, veins like fire as he looked up, reading the name on the dirty and decaying cross again and again.

_Dean Winchester_

Again and again Castiel’s eyes flooded, the name etched into the wood burned into his brain. He screamed violently, face streaked with tears, eyes blood red. He fell to the ground, moaning, hands covering his chest, trying to take away the pain that was shredding his heart, filling his lungs. His entire core ached as he lay there, soft sobs escaping his body. Ari slowly approached.

“Brother, we should leave,” she said softly, a hand moving to his back. Castiel grabbed her hand, tearing her to the ground. He grabbed the fallen angel blade, putting it to her throat.

“Take me back. Take me back to when he died, I must save him,” Castiel said, voice hysterical.

“Castiel, we do not know why, but angels cannot go back anymore. Not anywhere in time ever,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She carefully moved her hand to his face, cradling it as he fell back, the blade dropping to the grass.

“There is a way, I will find it, I will find it,” he muttered, falling onto the grass, eyes closed as he rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. When he opened them, he was back in the room, back to the wall while Ari stood above him. He wouldn’t look at her.

“Castiel, you must understand. I did not want you to know,” she told him.

“No, you do not understand! I will find him! Heaven or hell, purgatory or in God’s house itself- I. Will. Find him.”

“We have been looking, Castiel, his soul is gone, vanished. He and Metatron are both gone. They are calling it an act of God,” she told him.

“Then I will find God and I will rip his throat out.” Ari was silent as Castiel fell to the floor, shaking.

“You must control these emotions, Castiel, learn to control them. You cannot live this way for the remainder of your existence. Dean Winchester will soon be forgotten; perhaps not in a century, maybe not in a millennia; but eventually, his memory will fade.”

“Control human emotions? What a joke,” he managed to choke out. He had felt betrayal. He had felt saddened. He had felt love. He had never felt this. This was ripping his insides apart, threatening to kill him in the worst and most violent way. Castiel felt as if someone was slowly roasting his body while picking him apart, a hand grasped onto his lungs and twisting them, squeezing with all of their strength. Every breath hurt. All he wanted was for it to end.

“You must compose yourself. Begin to heal.”

“When did it happen?” he asked, the words leaving his throat strangled and barely coherent.

“That is not important.”

“Tell me.”

“Three days after you disappeared.” The feeling he got was one that reminded him of having the angel tablet ripped out, but one hundred times worse. It would have been better if Dean had died years later, not days. Everything was Castiel’s fault.

“How?”

“Sam ended him,” she said softly. Castiel managed to look up at her, reddened eyes confused, one hand clutching his midsection.

“What do you mean, ended him?”

“Please, rest, if you rest I will tell you,” she begged. He slowly moved his hands to the floor, screaming against the pain as he ripped himself up, one arm set firmly against the wall and the other over his torso as he hunched over. His eyes screamed pain as he looked at Ari.

“I can rest when I’m dead,” he said, his voice venomous. He saw a small shiver run through Ari’s body as she slightly flinched.

“You do not mean that, Castiel. You must rest, you must gather your strength.”

“ _How did Sam end him_!?”

“He was tortured, Castiel, Sam had to!”

“No! No!”

“Please, Castiel, be calm, please!”

“Take me back! Take me back!” Fresh tears spread down his face, his hands cradling his face, throat closing over.

“Castiel.” Ari placed a hand on his back, trying to quiet him.

“Take me back.”

“I cannot.”

“I need to see it, I need to have peace,” he gasped.

“This will not ensure peace, Castiel, only pain to you.”

“It will end my suffering, Ari. I am not strong enough to do it myself, please take me back.”

“I cannot transport you, Castiel, it is not possible, no angel can go back in time.” The only sound was Castiel’s difficult breathing as he tried to calm himself.

“In a memory. Can you take me back in a memory?” he asked, eyes trying to connect with Ari’s as she looked away. “Ari! Can you take me back in a memory?”

“Yes, but I won’t.” Castiel was done threatening.

“How could it get worse than this?”

“You have no idea how much worse it is, Castiel. I have already told you too much, and you must rest.” She turned before he could answer, leaving the door and locking it. Castiel sunk to the ground, a defeated whimper escaping his throat as he curled into a ball.

………..

Castiel was unsure how time had passed. He had been sitting on the floor of the room for what seemed like an eternity. He had composed himself, and he was sitting on a chair in the room, eyes steely and not focused on anything. His head turned as the door opened, Ari slowly entering. She watched Castiel as she approached, her high heels clicking on the tile. She noticed his dry eyes and perfect composure.

“How are you today, Castiel?” she asked.

“Fine,” he answered hollowly. “How much time has passed?”

“One week.” He nodded to himself. “Are your emotions in check, Castiel?”

“Yes, I do believe so. I would like to see the incident,” Castiel said, waiting for her reaction. She nodded briskly. He was surprised. “You will allow me to witness Dean Winchester’s death?”

“I would rather you see it with me than another angel who may lead you to the wrong conclusions,” she told him, a slight shrug in her shoulders. Castiel had been trying to search for a way to play the memory back himself for days, apparently, but he was still not back to full power and could not find the memory in this room. He sensed it now, though. Ugly and pulsing. He looked at Ari, knowing that she had the memory ready to be transferred to Castiel. “I must ask you, Castiel, one final time; are you sure this is what you want? It is a memory that will never leave you. This will be scarring, and I am unsure if you will come back the same angel as you were before.”

“It is too late for me to return to who I once was,” he said sharply, eyes connecting with hers, ice on ice. She held his gaze the intense emptiness overwhelming. She had never seen an angel look like this, only Lucifer and humans. It made a small shiver travel down her spine as she broke the gaze, looking back at the door.

“I understand. Tell me when you are ready,” she said, standing up slightly taller. Castiel stood next to her, his body looking as defeated as his eyes. He held out his hand. Ari eyed it warily. “You are one hundred percent sure this is what you want?”

“I need to know. I need to understand.” She lightly placed her fingers on his.

Castiel was not ready.

………..

He gasped as the light returned to his eyes, mind racing, fear surrounding his heart. It faded.

“Cas?” he heard. The voice made him melt; Dean. It was Dean’s voice.

“I’m here, Dean, right here! Dean! Dean, look at me, please!” He saw Dean rise from the floor with one hand clutching his head and the other steadying himself on the bed. His eyes were wild as he searched the room.

“Cas, where are you? Please, Cas, answer me!”

“Dean, just look at me! I’m here, I’m right here!”

“He cannot hear you,” Ari said, her tone neutral as she watched Dean furiously rip around the room, looking under the bed, running to the bathroom.

“Cas! Cas! Come back! _Cas_!” Castiel held a hand to his mouth as he saw Dean throw on a pair of pants and run outside. Ari followed him and Castiel did the same, slipping out the door before it closed. Dean was trembling, reaching in his pocket for his phone. “Sam? Sam, it’s Dean, Cas is gone. A white light took him, I don’t know where he is! Yeah, just come, hurry! We need to get him to before someone else does.” Dean hung up the phone, running hand after hand through his hair. His eyes snapped up as he saw two figures approaching him. He looked down, seeing the mark burning on his arm, his heart beginning to race. Why wasn’t he going into survival mode, getting ready to rip the heads off of these demons?

“Dean, run, please run,” Castiel whispered, arms wrapped around his chest. Ari watched him through professional eyes. She had been told to let him see this; he would make his own decision when it was over, and no one would have control over that. He would have found a way to see, and it was better this way, while he was being supervised.

“Fuck off!” Dean yelled, reaching for the demon knife that wasn’t there. He turned to open the door back to the room when a tingling sensation fell over him. Mouth agape, he looked up at Abbadon’s smiling face, then down to his stomach, clutching it, a small knife lodged there. He groaned, trying to rip at Abbadon’s face, but his arms weren’t working. Another demon was behind him all of a sudden, duct taping his wrists together, a sneer plastered on his face.

‘ _No_!” Castiel screamed, trying to run forwards. Ari stopped him, wrenching him back.

“Castiel! It is a memory! Nothing can be changed!” she yelled, forcing him to look at her. “It is too late now. Nothing can be changed.” His face took on the appearance of a statue and he nodded, shaking, turning back to Dean. Abbadon’s two, three, four demon minions were dragging Dean back to the check in area of the motel. Castiel and Ari followed. They watched at Dean’s back was dragged against the gravel, thick streams of blood coming from the shredded skin as it came in contact with the rocks. He screamed as they turned him, the knife that was left in his abdomen twisting and shifting, blood starting to form at the corners of his mouth. His jaw was grinding on the pavement, small pieces of skin ripping off.

“Cas, please,” Dean gasped as they picked him up, throwing him through the doors.

“They left him for two days,” Ari said quietly. “The knife was left in him, and he was given water to be kept alive. Sam was already in town when he died. The next three days will pass quickly, and things will slow as Abbadon returns.” Her voice was low, attempting to show compassion. Castiel was standing stock still, not wanting to let emotion show through, even though his entire body was being eaten alive by the flames licking through his nervous system. They watched for three days as Dean screamed himself hoarse, calling for Sam, Castiel, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, his mother; everyone who he thought might help. They would splash water on his face and force him to drink it, keeping him alive. On the third day, Abbadon was back.

“Look what I found,” she said, a smile creeping onto her lips as she entered the room, hand closed around Dean’s phone. “Well, looks like Sammy dearest is one of the only contacts. Let’s give him a call.”

“You bitch,” Dean spat, screaming as she nudged the knife in deeper. How he was still alive Castiel, did know. Why the mark wasn’t helping him, he was clueless. He held a hand to his mouth as Abbadon clicked the button to call the younger Winchester.

“Hello, Sam? Yes, this is Abbadon, thanks for asking! Well, I’ve got your big brother here, and I thought you might enjoy listening to him suffer,” she said, her voice cheery.

“Turn it off,” Dean gasped, chest heaving as anger filled his features.

“Oh yes, this should be fun!” she said, setting the phone down and putting it on speaker.

“ _Dean! Dean, hold on, I’m tracking the phone. Just hold on_ ,” Sam yelled. Castiel heard car doors slamming. He knew they would be too late.

“Too bad you won’t it on time, Sammy,” she said, pulling a machete off of the rack near the back wall, watching the light glint off of the blade. Dean’s breathing increased rapidly, and he began to try and twist out of the restraints, screaming as the rusty knife shifted, causing a new spout of blood to flow.

“ _Dean! Hang on, Dean, just half an hour! Hang on!_ ” Sam screamed.

“Hm, I think we should take care of this nasty mark here, don’t you?” she asked. The mark was dead, blackened, and Dean’s fear was nearly palpable. Why wasn’t the mark glowing, helping? Why had it stopped working? What was she going to do?

“I won’t beg,” Dean snarled.

“Oh, I’m not counting on it,” Abbadon said, her eyes lighting up as a smile wavered on her lips. In one quick and fluid motion, she brought the machete back, swinging it down and impacting Dean’s upper arm, the sound of metal hitting metal when it went clean through the limb. The scream that came from Dean was deafening, his eyes staring at the bloody slash, his arm sinking to the floor. Blood was everywhere, and Dean’s screams rang off the walls, bouncing back and around again. He was hyperventilating, Sam screaming too, Abbadon smiling. Ari held Castiel back as his own scream ripped out of his chest, nowhere near the same octave of agony Dean’s bad been. Castiel stopped struggling after a moment, throat clenching as he heard Dean scream again and again, his face a mask of horror. Abbadon picked up the amputated arm, smiling to herself as she flung it across the room. Dean’s face was pale, his lips trembling as scream after horrifying scream ripped from his vocal cords.

“ _I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!_ ” Sam yelled, rage coming through the phone. Dean’s scream was cut off as blood filled his mouth, choking him as he spat it out. It continued to leak from his lips, his eyes bloodshot and his body convulsing. What remained of his arm was bloody, staining the air with its colour, viciously spreading the scent of iron. Castiel was on his knees, his face contorted, screaming again. Ari stood silently, watching her brother, one hand ready to keep him from bolting.

“ _Dean! Please, Dean, no! NO, NO, NO, NO_!” Castiel screamed again and again, sobbing once more, Ari moving a hand to his shoulder, keeping him from crawling to the dying man. Abbadon walked towards Dean, her knife slicing against his face. She bent down to his ear as another shattering scream escaped the empty husk that was Dean Winchester.

“Beg for your life,” she whispered, lips tickling his ear. He let out a noise that was inhuman, eyes beginning to role in the back of his head. Abbadon ripped the machete from the metal, placing her hand over the wound and gripping it, the loudest scream yet ripping into Castiel’s very soul, Dean’s mouth filled with blood, eyes dripping tears. He could hear Sam yelling, but only focused on Dean, his own face red and throat raw from sobs.

“I’ll… never…” Dean gasped, eyes hardening as he tried to move himself away. Abbadon took the small knife and ripped it up his side, carefully peeling back the skin, causing Dean to buck and convulse once more, eyes slowly rolling up. Castiel held his breath, praying to anyone that Dean would be unconscious for his final moments. Abbadon slapped him violently across the face and he sputtered, two teeth dropping from his mouth, head hung low as the rest of his body sagged against the restraints. His jaw was slowly going slack.

“Oh no, Dean, the fun is just beginning!”

“Fuck… off,” Dean gasped, a last bout of strength being used to spit blood into Abbadon’s eye. She chuckled, wiping it off and licking her palm.

“Don’t you want to know why the mark failed, Dean? You see, it was never meant to be transferred. You had a limited time to use it, and that time is up! So discarding the silly thing from your body is helping you!” she said, walking back to the torture rack. Dean’s eyes were closing.

“ _Please, just die! Please!_ ” Castiel begged, hands running through his hair as he watched Dean snap back to reality, small choking sounds coming from his throat. Castiel moaned, looking up at Ari. “Please, please end it, please.”

“You made this choice, Castiel,” she said stonily, eyes facing forwards, face emotionless. Castiel looked back to see Abbadon approaching again, using a hammer to smash Dean’s phone.

“Oops,” she said innocently. Dean couldn’t even scream anymore. His entire world was pure pain, nothing left in him but the horrendous, shredding agony.

“Why?” he gasped.

“Why do this to you? Oh Dean, you silly little fool, you! The answer is simply _why not_? I can do whatever I feel like, and I certainly like this feeling!” Abbadon said, taking the hammer and using it to smash the knife deeper inside of Dean. He let out a weak groan and a gasp, eyes widening as a _crack_ came from his ribs. He sobbed, blood pooling from his mouth onto the floor. Castiel could barely hold still, his whole body shaking as he watched Dean’s eyes slowly open and close.

“You… won’t… win. Cas… will kill… you,” Dean whispered, coughing as more blood came from his mouth. Abbadon sat in front of him.

“I bet he will, Dean!” she said cheerily. There was a quiet whizzing noise; the sound of metal on metal. Abbadon had caught a flying knife between her fingernails, examining it carefully. “Oh, Sammy, you didn’t think this would work, did you?” She turned with a smile as Sam ran in, collapsing to his knees when he saw Dean.

“ _No_ ,” he gasped, face contorted. Abbadon let out another laugh, standing and sauntering towards the younger Winchester. Sam’s eyes were glued to Dean’s battered body. Abbadon made a small pouting face.

“Oh, boohoo Sammy. Get over it. You can die together!” Sam squeezed his eyes shut, diving to the floor. Castiel barely saw what happened next. There was a fluid motion and a soft _thwack_ before Abbadon’s head was rolling towards his feet. He gaped open mouthed at Ari.

“How?” he asked. She pointed at the doorway, seeing Cain step out with Crowley at his side. The mark burned red. Sam rushed to Dean, who was hanging on by a thread. He grinned as much as he could as Sam held his face, Crowley hurrying over to undo the restraints. Dean collapsed to the floor.

“Fuck, Squirrel,” Crowley said, eyeing the discarded arm across the room. Dean was still smiling as Sam struggled to hold him in his lap.

“You… came,” he gasped, eyes alight.

“Yeah, Dean, yeah, I did,” Sam choked out. Ari allowed Castiel to walk towards them. He kneeled beside Sam, staring into Dean’s eyes.

“We should leave,” Cain said, exiting with Crowley to give Sam his final moments with his only family.

“Sammy… sorry…” Dean said, the smile fading as more blood came up. Dean was numb now; the pain had gone, his body already dead.

“No, Dean, you’re fine, we’ll fix you, you’ll see!” Sam cried, hysterics creeping into his voice. Dean managed to shake his head.

“No, Sam. Kill… me… please,” he managed, eyes searching his brother’s. Careful of his missing arm, Sam wrapped Dean into a hug, tears falling onto the other man’s bare back. Gasping sobs escaped his throat as he clutched onto Dean. “Let me… go.”

“No, I can’t.”

“You have to,” Castiel and Dean said at the same time. Dean’s eyes wandered over to him.

“Cas…” He searched for the angel, but couldn’t see him.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Castiel said, voice breaking as he watched Dean search uselessly.

“I’ll find him, Dean, I will. I’ll get you and him back if it’s the last thing I do.”

“No!” Dean said, voice hoarse but firm. “You let me die. Don’t look for me. Let me die.”

“Please, Dean,” Sam gasped, voice breaking on his brother’s name. Dean let out a small shudder, the knife moving in his side; he could barely react. He began to breathe heavily once more, eyes neck straining and eyes searching wildly for something to look at. Castiel sat back, covering his face with his hands.

“Sammy,” Dean said. Sam was pulling out a gun. “Sammy, I love you. So… much. I… I love you…proud…” Dean’s voice trailed off.

“I love you too,” Castiel said.

“Dean,” Sam whispered. “Forgive me.”

The bang echoed in Castiel’s head as he sat up from the floor, chest heaving, eyes wild. Ari was above him, standing silently, eyes focusing on the door that led away from the room that she had first kept Castiel in. Castiel wouldn’t look at her, eyes glued to the floor, trying to control his tears. He heard Dean say ‘I love you’ again and again and again, the bang going off over and over and over. He put his hands over his ears, ripping at his hair at the same time.

“Make it stop!” he seethed through clenched teeth.

“I warned you, Castiel,” Ari said softly, crouching beside her brother.

“How do I make it right?” Castiel asked, looking up. “How do I fix this? Kill Metatron, find Sam- how do I make it right?”

“It has been fifteen years, Castiel. It is too late now. Everything has been resolved. All that you are needed for is to return to your post in heaven and forget Dean Winchester,” Ari said, placing a hand delicately on his shoulder.

“Ari, I cannot.”

“You and he were bonded.” Castiel shuddered when she said ‘were’.

“I never understood why.”

“Neither do the rest of us, Castiel. None of us knows what this is like; you are a pure anomaly.”

“What do I do?” he whispered. The emotions were supposed to be gone; his grace had been returned. Why did he still feel this way?

“Castiel, I cannot answer that. I am so sorry.”

“Why are you even here?”

“I have been assigned to watch over you until you are… calmed.”

“I will never be calmed.”

“You cannot seek revenge where it is not needed, Castiel. Cain killed Abbadon before returning to a life of solitude. Crowley is now human and works in the government. Metatron is gone, dead for all we know. Gadreel has also been killed. Castiel, Sam Winchester is _happy_ ,” Ari said, slowly standing. “You must try and forget these humans; come back to your family.”

“You do not understand. They are my family.” Castiel managed to stand, looking at his sister. He ran a hand down her arm, dropping it when he reached her jacket sleeve. He looked at her with the eyes of a soulless man.

“Castiel? What do you wish me to do?”

“I wish for you to kill me,” he whispered, lowering his head.

“No, Castiel, stop! You cannot think this way!”

“Ari, he and I were bonded. There was and is no other reason for to live. The minute I pulled Dean Winchester from hell I knew that I would die for him one day. You have never been human; you cannot possibly understand what it is like to be willing to lose your life for one,” he said, voice soft near the end, eyes averting Ari’s. She placed Castiel’s hand in her own.

“I will not kill you, brother. It is not right.”

“I deserve to die.”

“No, you do not, Castiel!”

“Ari, I died the minute I saw that grave. I knew then. I do not deserve this grace or this life.”

“I cannot kill you; you are my brother.”

“Then allow me to die peacefully.” Ari was silent. “This is what I want.”

“It is your decision, Castiel. I do not like it, but it is your own to choose.”

“Thank you.” She took his hand once more.

“Castiel, the others will not care if this happens, I want you to know that. I want you to know that your brothers and sisters already view you dead. I am one of the only angels who knows or care that you are back. If you die, not many will be affected, but I will, Castiel. I want you to know that before you choose.”

“I choose death,” he said softly, placing his hand over hers. She straightened.

“I am sorry.” She led him to a chair and placed him on it. “I have the authority, Castiel; are you sure?”

“Yes.” She nodded, a needle appearing in her hand. Castiel didn’t move a muscle as she slid it into his neck. “I am sorry, Castiel.” She pulled the syringe upwards, gathering his grace into the containment area. Castiel’s body convulsed forwards, moved opening in a silent scream. He slouched down when she ripped the needle out, breathing labored. Ari put a small tissue on his neck, wiping up the trail of blood that was falling from it.

“Am I…?” Castiel began.

“The grace has been removed. You will lose your wings within a day, and be completely human when they are off,” Ari said quietly. She put the grace into a bottle. She turned, handing it to Castiel, who tried to refuse it.

“No, Ari, I will not change my mind. I do not wish to live without Dean Winchester.”

“Take it anyways, Castiel. Keep it close always, to remember us by.” Castiel took the bottle and placed it in his pocket. He lurched forwards, clutching his head. A wave of emotions ran through him as his body realized the grace was gone. Ari watched as he sunk to the floor, her hands waving uselessly over his body.

“ _I want to be with you Cas, just not right now_.” Castiel flinched, remembering Dean’s touch, his scent, his hands caressing down his body. He shuddered as the memory of dragging Dean from the put resurfaced, all of his strength focused on getting Dean _out_. He remembered Uriel, the witch, becoming Dean’s friend, brother. He remembered becoming a Leviathan; he remembered when he saw Dean in purgatory, the sheer joy that ripped through his body. He remembered killing Dean over and over, and finally seeing the real Dean once more. Every memory, every touch, every emotion all flooded back into Castiel’s mind. He had millennia on this planet, but all he could think about was Dean. All he wanted was Dean. And Dean was dead. Castiel opened his eyes to find Ari calling his name once more. He looked up at her, blue eyes slowly fading.

“You must go now, Castiel.” He nodded, standing, one hand still on his head. He turned to Ari.

“Thank you, sister, for showing me what no one else could,” he said softly, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder as he stood by the door.

“I hope you find peace of mind, Castiel,” she whispered. Castiel walked through the door, finding himself on a roadside. There was nothing ahead of him, but everything behind him. Castiel began to walk. Ari’s words played in his mind.

_I hope you find peace of mind, Castiel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I currently have an epilogue burning in the back of my mind; if anyone wants to read it, let me know in the comments and I'll type it up as a seventh chapter. Thank you so much for sticking with me through this! I've never written a fic this long, and it's been quite the learning experience. Also, I'd like to mention that I stayed up late planning this ending the past few days. I was hoping it would take the weekend to write, but I became addicted and couldn't stop.


	7. Epilogue -Memories are all we have-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel faces his fears on earth as he finds his final destination as a human being.

The sunset was beautiful. Light rays were going every which way, the clouds parted in the perfect way to let the beams warm the chest of the fallen angel they touched. Castiel was covered in dirt and sweat, trench coat blood stained and filthy. He was now wearing an old black t shirt and patched up jeans, but the trench coat was still there, a constant reminder of who Castiel had once been. He looked away from the gorgeous sight the sky had given him, instead focusing on three simple numbers; 563. These three numbers were making his heart point and perspiration appear on his forehead. Castiel wiped it off, hand grazing his beard. He had yet to find a razor to shave, and he didn’t care much for appearances at this point anyways. His eyes were not set on a mirror, but those numbers instead. 563 Milner Street. Castiel’s eyes moved from the numbers to the crumpled paper in his hand and back again. He sighed deeply. Once whole month he had been human again; he had been fighting to survive, trying his damnedest not to just give up and die. He had things that needed to be said, done, and ended before that happened. With a deep breath, Castiel began to move up the driveway.

The house that loomed above him with a beautiful one; it was two stories with grey tile and red shutters, a bright red door greeting him as he advanced. Two cars were in the driveway; a white minivan and some kind of blue car that Castiel couldn’t place the name of. Behind the cars was a garage, red door seeming to beckon Castiel closer. Bikes were strewn across the yard with a larger on leaning against the house. Castiel was approaching the walk that lead to the front door. He stopped for a moment, looking at the flowers in the garden and observing a bee as it flew by. He looked at the front porch as the bee moved away, seeing a swinging seat and some smaller lawn chairs, bike helmets on the front porch. He saw a large window, but no people inside of it.

Castiel climbed the six steps to the front door slowly, cautiously, wondering why he was even there with every passing second. He stopped at the front door, looking at the welcome back before his feet, gently nudging a small doll off of it before standing atop it himself. He took a long, slow breath, closing his eyes. Castiel reached his arm out and knocked loudly three times on the door, cringing at each bang, heart pounding heavily, fearful of the reaction he would receive. With baited breath, Castiel stepped back, hands fidgeting uselessly with his coat. He looked from the door to the window and back again, slowly moving away from the door after a few seconds, heart pounding out of the fear of Sam opening the door. He was about to turn when a creak greeted him. Castiel’s eyes automatically looking up and expecting to see the man nearly half a foot taller than him. Castiel was shocked when he had to look down, seeing a small child instead, looking up from his chest.

“Is Sam Winchester here?” Castiel asked, looking at the young boy. He had soft skin with a very straight nose, cheeks flushed and chestnut brown hair a wild mop on top of his head, curling down around his ears. His lip had a small scar on the right side, leading up for around a centimeter before stopping. He was wearing jeans with holes in the knees and a dirty red t shirt. He was staring at Castiel, warm brown eyes studying him with both fear and intelligence. He watched as the boy, looking him in the eyes, carefully reached over to the wall and knocked three times. Confused, Castiel began to open his mouth, closing it abruptly when the boy appeared beside himself, but wearing a green shirt with some kind of monster on it. Castiel’s eyes widened as he looked from one boy to the other, trying to figure out what was happening. He noticed the second boy had no scar, and began to refer to him as ‘the second one’ in his head.

“Can I help you?” the second one asked.

“I’m looking for Sam Winchester. Is he home?” Castiel asked, voice sounding like he had swallowed rusty nails and glass. He tried to clear his parched throat, but it wasn’t helping. The second one eyed him warily, Castiel shuddering when he realized it was the same way Dean used to look at him when he was suspicious of Castiel’s intentions.

“Who’s asking?” the second one asked, the first one moving behind the door. Castiel began to answer when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Robby? I heard your knocking, are you okay, buddy?” Castiel heard, not believing his eyes. Breath caught in his throat, Castiel stumbled away from the door, tripping over his own feet as he moved back, eyes focused on the face before him. The second one backed away, hiding behind the tall man. Sam’s eyes locked with Castiel’s, body freezing in place, hand reaching for the door. He was older, much older. His hair was completely grey, chopped off at long last, short and simple. His eyes were happy, wrinkling at the sides with age and smiles. His face was not smiling now.

“Hello Sam,” Castiel said, words choked in his throat as his eyes squinted to see his old friend.

“Dad?” Castiel heard the second one say. He didn’t look away from Sam. Sam stumbled forwards, ignoring the two children and practically sprinting the short distance between himself and Castiel, ripping him forwards into an embrace, hugging the fallen angel close. Castiel grasped him back, head barely over his shoulder. He felt Sam shudder as he breathed heavily, clinging to Castiel.

“Cas,” he finally gasped, moving away from him to study the man with wet eyes. He gripped him again, Castiel closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around Sam.

“Sam?” Castiel heard, opening his eyes to see a fair skinned woman with deep brown eyes reaching a hand to touch Sam’s shoulder. She quickly moved it back as she and Castiel locked eyes. Sam moved away from Castiel, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Sam, are you okay?” She was hesitant, looking from Castiel to Sam, not trusting this dirty stranger with the massive amount of facial hair. Sam laughed slightly.

“It’s fine, Ame, this is- this is Castiel, he’s an old friend,” Sam said, pulling Castiel close to him. Castiel looked down to see the two boys standing in the door, one of them moving his hands quickly towards the other.

“I am homeless, but I am not a ‘hobo’,” Castiel said, looking at the first one. Sam looked from his son to Castiel.

“How did you know what he said?” Sam asked him, eyes searching Castiel’s own for any kind of recognition of the man he once knew as Castiel, Angel of the Lord.

“I speak every language known to man; I have told you this before,” Castiel said, eyes downcast. He felt something clinging in his chest. He couldn’t place what it was, but the feeling was similar to guilt, though it hurt much more than Castiel remembered guilt hurting. Amy looked at Castiel with the eyes of an overly protective mother; he saw as she ushered a small being behind her back in the door. Castiel’s breath caught in his throat. A beautiful creature was staring back at him. Clinging to her mother’s knees, the little girl’s eyes glowed brightly at Castiel, wide and wondrous; Dean’s eyes. Her hair was bouncing as her mother dragged her inside, curly dirty blond ringlets shining in the evening light. Castiel slightly noticed their gleam against her light face, but all his eyes never left hers. Their beautiful green, shimmering with creativity. Sam noticed the way Castiel stared, the idea finally clicking in his brain that Castiel was seeing Dean’s eyes for the first time in who knows how long. Pain crossed Sam’s face as he put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder; the man didn’t notice, completely hypnotized by the small human peaking up at him from behind her mother’s legs.

“Sam, take care of this,” Amy hissed, moving Dean’s eyes away from Castiel’s sight, a flurry of red taking away the girl, the boy and his double going with her. Sam’s eyes moved back Castiel from the closing door, hand still on his shoulder, slightly shocked by the rudeness of his wife, and turning Castiel to face him.

“Her eyes,” the fallen angel whispered. Sam wrapped him in another hug.

“I know, Cas, I know,” he whispered back. Releasing him once more, Castiel was like a ragdoll in Sam’s hands. Castiel only wanted Sam’s reaction to be as he wished; if Sam had punched him, beaten him, killed him; Castiel wouldn’t have cared. Sam reacting with happiness and joy was the last thing he imagined to happen.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel said, coughing as the words scraped against his dry throat.

“I don’t either. It was like a gift from God when she was born,” Sam said, moving Castiel to sit on the swinging chair. He thumped down heavily, face in his hands, body shaking as he tried to control himself. Sam awkwardly moved a hand to his back, head buzzing, mouth full of questions. He wasn’t sure where to start.

“I’m so sorry,” Castiel choked.

“What happened to you, Cas?” Sam asked. Castiel shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Sam demanded, anger creeping into his voice. Castiel flinched at his change of tone.

“There… there was a white light, and then I was in a room. With an angel, my sister. My grace returned. It had been fifteen years, but only felt like one second. Sam, I didn’t know until… until Ari, my sister, she showed me. Sam, I saw. And I cannot… I cannot…” Castiel stopped, head drooping, clenching his teeth and digging his hands into his eyes. Sam was a statue beside him, body rigid and eyebrows pressed together.

“You saw?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Castiel said, not moving from his position.

“Everything?”

“Yes.”

“How… bad was it?” Castiel slowly raised his head, looking at Sam, whose eyes were steely and focused.

“Sam-”

“Just tell me!” Sam snapped. “Did I do the right thing!? Could he have lived!?” This was what Castiel had been expecting; a snap. He had been nervous having Sam so calm, and honestly felt some relief to see an emotional reaction from the man.

It had been only eight minutes since Castiel has knocked on the door.

“Sam,” Castiel said, looking up, “You did everything right. If you had not… had not done what was necessary, Dean would have died in more pain than you found him in. What you saw upon your arrival… I cannot begin to fathom what may have happened if you had, in fact, taken thirty minutes. Those fifteen minutes it did take you saved him, Sam. It saved him.”

“Cas, I- I had to. Cas, it was so bad. It was so bad,” Sam repeated, voice thick as he looked at Castiel, all happiness evaporating from his face, his features laced with the pain of a memory he had long tried to bury. The gunshot went off again and again in his mind.

“I know,” Castiel whispered. They sat quietly, the only sound Sam’s gasping breaths as he tried to control the tears falling from his face. “Sam, I tried to go back, I did. I did everything I could to bring him back.” Sam sat up abruptly.

“No,” he hissed. Castiel was taken aback.

“I don’t understand,” he murmured.

“Don’t go back, Cas. Don’t change what happened.” Castiel felt a swell of anger rise in his stomach.

“What do you mean!? Don’t you miss him!?”

“Of course I do!” Sam yelled. “Of course I do,” he repeated, tone soft. “Cas, don’t try and change the past. I’ve… I’ve moved on. Please, Cas, my kids…” Sam trailed off and Castiel stood, moving to the edge of the porch. Sam stayed in place.

“How many?” Castiel asked, coughing as the words came out of his mouth.

“Three. You saw them all.” A shiver ran down Castiel’s spine. “Robert, for… for Bobby. William, for Amy’s father. And… Deanna.” Castiel looked back sharply, face falling as tears welled in his eyes.

“Deanna?”

“Yeah. She’s… she’s great, Cas. Nothing like Dean, it’s perfect,” Sam said, getting a small chuckle from Castiel. The dark mood soon returned.

“Sam, do you believe me? That I cannot remember?” Castiel asked, looking away again.

“Do you have any reason to lie?” Sam asked.

“No.”

“I just can’t wrap my head around it, Cas. Fifteen years. How does that happen?”

“I do not know,” Castiel whispered. He moved towards the stairs, coming to sit back down when he stopped, seeing one of the identical boys in the window, hand grabbing a shaggy dog’s collar as he pulled it down, Castiel hearing a yell through the window as the boy disappeared too. He sat, ignoring the child.

“We… we can work this out,” Sam said.

“How?”

“I don’t know. Magic? A memory regaining spell?” Castiel shook his head.

“I do not know if there is anything to remember. It may just be nothingness.” They were quiet again. “How did you move on, Sam? How is it even possible?”

“It… took me a long time. Two years, actually, before I finally stopped looking. Two years after that I found Amy. I was on a hunt, and we… well, we started dating. Another year later, we got married. Two years after that, Robby and Will were born. I just… I just stopped having time to mourn him. I’ll always miss him, Cas, and I’ll always love him, but I can’t let it ruin my life, my kids’ lives,” Sam explained, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever stop mourning him.”

“I’ve had fifteen years, Cas. You haven’t even had fifteen weeks. Have you?”

“Five.”

“Only five. Cas, it takes time. So much time. It took me four years before I was ready to care for anyone else. Eventually, it does get easier,” Sam said, his hand moving back to Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel looked at him with empty eyes, not believing a word Sam said.

“This conversation is all over the place.”

“We have fifteen years to catch up on.”

“I see you have a dog.”

“Two, actually, but one is hiding; puppies in two weeks.”

“Birth is always exciting.”

“I agree.” Neither moved their expression from the brooding one’s they had just inherited. Conversation at this point was strained, both wanting to try and calm things before opening the door to Dean again.

“The boys, twins, you said; they’re eight?”

“Yes.”

“And De- the girl?”

“She’s four.” Castiel’s chest tightened, feeling something between happiness and overwhelming depression; the little girl had spent four wondrous years on this planet, yet all had been without her namesake, her Uncle Dean.

“They grow up fast,” Castiel muttered, looking from the porch to Sam. Sam’s eyes seemed to finally clear, and he actually _saw_ Castiel.

“Cas, come in, I’ll get you cleaned up,” he said softly, standing. Castiel stood too, but moved away from Sam.

“No, I should go, I just… wanted you to know. That I’m alive.”

“You aren’t leaving,” Sam said firmly, anger creeping into his brow. “I just got you back, and you can’t leave. We have so much to say to each other.” Castiel looked at his feet.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’ll only hurt me by leaving.” When Castiel’s eyes met Sam’s, they were pleading. There was still a wide range of emotions flashing across his face; anger, happiness, sadness, anxiety; but his eyes were yelling at Castiel to come inside, be warm, be safe. And Castiel wanted to listen to them.

“I suppose one night won’t hurt anyone,” Castiel told him, voice barely audible. A flicker of a smile crossed Sam’s lips. He took Castiel’s wrist, moving him towards the door as he opened it, a flurry of red and green making their way up the stairs, footsteps pounding as they fled.

“Stop your spying!” Sam yelled after them.

“The boy with the scar-”

“Robby.”

“He cannot speak?”

“He was born mute. The doctor’s say there’s nothing they can do.” Castiel’s hand moved to the vial in his pocket. He could help Sam. He would be able to make this boy’s life so much easier. One simple flick of a cap…

“What’s going on?” Castiel heard, snapping out of his trance, eyes moving towards the voice and finding Amy, wild curls now pulled into a ponytail, staring at him. Sam crossed the room, putting his hands on her arms.

“He’s staying with us a while,” Sam said. Amy’s eyes snapped from Castiel to Sam.

“What?” she demanded. Sam gave Castiel a look dragging Amy out of earshot. Castiel stood awkwardly in the hallway, unsure of what to do. His hand played with the frayed and bloodied trench coat.

“Psst,” he heard, looking up to see the twin boys halfway down the stairs. Castiel moved his head to the side as they came down slowly, quietly.

“Yes?” he asked. The boy with no scar, Will, Sam had said, approached him and pointed at the blood, the other boy, Robby, hanging off of the banister.

“Is that _real_ blood?” Will asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said again. His eyes widened and Robby fell off of the banister, getting up and running towards Castiel, signing to his brother.

“It is my own,” Castiel answered him. Robby looked up, eyes curious.

“Where did you learn sign language?” Will demanded. He was just like his uncle.

“I…” Castiel hesitated, remembering Amy’s reaction to his initial response. “I learned it from a friend. I thought it would be a good thing to know.” Will nodded, satisfied with his answer.

“Why were you bleeding?”

“I tripped,” Castiel answered automatically, remembering, with a flinch, his knife digging into his side as he fell over a tire left on the road. It hadn’t been a deep cut by far, and Castiel had managed to scrounge up some clean bandages.

“Do you have a scar?” Will asked, Robby leaning in to look. Castiel shook his head.

“It’s on my side.”

“So?”

“So… I don’t know.” Will gave him a challenging look. With a small smile, Castiel moved his coat aside, pulling his shirt up and revealing a pink scar that ran four inches from his ribs down. Robby’s eyes lit up with awe and Will let out a small gasp.

“That is so cool,” he said, moving his hand to touch it. Castiel quickly put his shirt back down.

“That’s enough,” he said firmly.

“Who are you?” Will asked, Robby nodding beside him.

“Castiel, An-“ he stopped himself again, closing his eyes and clenching his fists. “A friend of your father’s.”

“I’m Will. This is Robby,” Will said, jabbing a finger at his brother, who stuck his tongue out at his sibling. “Dee is in the living room, do you want to meet her?” Castiel’s heart froze, eyes darkening. Will noticed, taking a step back.

“No, thank you. Where is your father?” As if on cue, Sam came back to the living room, Amy trailing behind him, colour gone from her cheeks. What had Sam told her?

“Boys, go play with your sister,” Amy said hoarsely. Sam stopped in front of Castiel, hand reached back and holding Amy’s. “Castiel, I am so, so sorry for my behavior earlier.”

“There is nothing to apologize for,” Castiel said, stepping back as she moved forwards and hugged him, his eyes bewildered as he stared at Sam past her shoulder. He moved a hand to the back of his neck. Amy stepped away from Castiel.

“Stay as long as you need to,” she said, trailing Sam’s arm with her fingers as she left the room, her other hand on her throat as she made her way to the living room. Castiel’s eyes moved from her disappearing figure to Sam, who gently led him up the stairs.

“The bathroom is here,” he said, opening the second door on the left. “I’ll get you some clean clothes while you wash up.” Sam ushered Castiel into the white tiled room.

“Sam, what did you tell her?” Castiel asked.

“The truth.” When he was met with an open mouth and wide eyes, Sam elaborated. “That you’re an ex-soldier who I once worked with. You were dating Dean when he… you know. And that you have PTSD, so we need to help you. It’s mostly the truth.” Sam’s voice was soft, comforting. The words seemed as if they should offend Castiel, but he knew that they were mostly true. He nodded to Sam, turning away. Sam took it as his cue to leave. Castiel sunk to the floor of the bathroom when the door clicked shut, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.

_“What a shithole.”_

_“Yes, but thanks to this shithole we found each other.”_

Castiel bit his lip, trying desperately to control his memories. They had started flooding back twelve days ago, when the shock finally wore off completely.

_“How drunk are you?”_

_“Drunk enough that I won’t remember doing this.”_

Castiel stood, shaking his head violently. He shed his clothes, leaving them on the floor as he moved to the shower. He turned it on, feeling the warmth spread over his body as the water began to flow. It was his first shower since Ari took his grace.

_“Na na na na nananana…. Nanananana… Hey Jude…”_

Castiel jumped in the shower, whipping back the curtain. His breathing stopped, eyes going wide, hand moving to his open mouth. 

“Dean?” he whispered, stumbling out of the tub and sliding across the floor, falling on the wet tiles. His eyes never left Dean’s form. 

“Who else?” The voice was like the choir of Heaven singing, gracing Castiel’s ears and sending shivers down his spine. 

“You didn’t say that in the memory,” Castiel choked, tears spilling from his eyes. He lurched forwards, grabbing Dean’s coat and wrenching him towards his dripping body, wrapping his arms around the man and hugging him for longer than anyone had ever hugged him before. Dean was soaked, but he didn’t care, arms gripping Castiel’s body tightly. He eventually moved the fallen angel back. “How?” 

“Cas, it’s complicated.” 

“How are you here?” Dean wouldn’t look at him. “HOW!?” 

“I’m not!” Castiel froze, heart dropping, head spinning. He opened and closed his mouth, confusion etched into his features. Dean sighed, lowering his head. “It’s all in your mind, buddy. I’m sorry." 

“No, I just touched you. How could that just be my mind?” Castiel reached forwards again, arm outstretched to touch Dean’s hand. He blinked, and when his eyes opened, he was reaching for a fallen towel. “Dean?” A knock came at the door. 

“Cas? You okay?” Sam asked. 

“No,” Castiel hissed, moving away from the door, not caring that he was completely naked. He stood, hands clutching his head. “No, no, _no_! He was right there! He was right there, he should have come back! He should be here now!” Castiel was yelling at this point, and Sam opened the door slowly, closing it quickly behind him as he stepped into the steamy bathroom. Castiel’s eyes were clenched shut and he was mumbling to himself over and over again. Sam reached forwards, touching his wet shoulder. His eyes flashed open. “Dean?" 

“No, Cas, it’s Sam. It’s Sam. Dean’s gone,” Sam whispered in a soothing tone. Castiel made a choking sound, eyes growing wide in realization. He looked open mouthed from Sam to the door. 

“He was right there. I should have saved him." 

“Cas, please, let me help you.” Sam reached towards him, Castiel nearly collapsing in his arms, body shaking. Sam grabbed a towel and tried to dry him off, lowering Castiel to the floor and moving him into an embrace. 

“It makes no sense,” Castiel sobbed. 

“It’ll be okay, Cas, it’ll be okay.” 

_……….._

Castiel stayed with Sam for two weeks. He became Uncle Cassie to the children, and learned that he greatly enjoyed the companionship of dogs, but not the taste of dog food. He named a puppy Gabrielle and another one Spot; he enjoyed his life in those two weeks. He played with the kids, cooked dinner for the family (well, burned dinner for the family, but he tried). He spent his nights lying awake, listening to the quiet sounds of the house and trying to get the images of Sam putting a bullet through Dean’s head out of his mind. He found out was a s’more was, and also that the five second rule is very important. He played pranks, he ran around a yard, he played fetch with a dog, scooped a laughing child into his arms, stared into Dean’s eyes in the form of his niece. Castiel laughed, joyful and true. Castiel cried, but only when no one was around to see it. Castiel spent two weeks with Sam, Amy and their children. But after two weeks, Castiel knew. He knew it wouldn’t last, and he knew that he would never heal. 

Three knocks sounded on the door, and Castiel turned, finding Robby smiling sheepishly at him. Castiel smiled back, beckoning the mute boy to sit on his bed. He skipped across the room, happily snuggling up next to his only uncle. Castiel held the boy close, kissing the top of his head. 

“Robby?” The boy looked up. “Would you like to speak?” Robby stared at him with a mixture of confusion and wonder. What did Uncle Cassie have planned? 

_But I can’t_ , he signed.

“What if I could let you? Would you want to then?” The boy pondered the question.

_Forever?_

“Yes,” Castiel told him. The boy beamed, grinning from ear to ear and nodding his head vigorously. “Are you sure?”

 _Yes! Do you know a doctor?_ Castiel shook his head, and Robby looked puzzled.

“Wait here,” Castiel said. He stood, getting the coat he had worn when he first arrived. He pulled the vial from his pocket, moving to the hallway and uncovering it, light shining against his face. Castiel moved into the room beside his guest bedroom, looking carefully at the vial. Ari would not remove his grace twice; that much he knew. This would be lasting, unless he could somehow persuade one of his siblings to help him die. Which they wouldn’t, of course. With a deep breath, Castiel twisted the lid off of the vial containing his grace. He gasped, eyes and mouth wide as the grace flew from his body to his mouth. Back arched, Castiel felt it swim and circle his vessel, cooling and strengthening and removing all scars. It was over within seconds. Castiel flexed his fingers, looking at his hand, feeling the power that rested there. A loud gasp escaped Castiel as he felt his wings move, flexing against his body. He let out a noise of contentment at finally being whole again, but he needed to focus on the task at hand for the time being. He realized he was backed against a wall and moved away, going out of the room and back to his own small living space. Robby was still there, swinging his legs on the bed. Castiel grinned widely as he walked in, and Robby bounced excitedly.

_Does mom know I’ll talk?_

“No, it will be a surprise,” Castiel told him, kneeling in front of the boy. His grin widened, if at all possible. “Robby, are you sure this is what you want?” The boy nodded. Castiel wrapped the boy in a hug, and he reacted with surprise, quickly hugging Castiel back. “I want you to be good, Robby.” He seemed confused at Castiel’s words, but was now focused on Castiel moving him back into a sitting position and his slowly advancing fingers. Robby closed his eyes as Castiel pressed his index and middle fingers to the boy’s forehead. Robby felt a tingling in his throat, and when he opened his eyes, he was alone in the spare bedroom. He stood, a confused look on his face. He knocked three times, trying to get Castiel to come out of hiding.

When he had searched under the bed and in the closet, Robby shrugged, running downstairs. He wanted his first ever words to be with his family. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he found his mother and father in the kitchen, Deanna playing on the floor and Will feeding the dogs. Sam looked up from his book as Will entered, smiling at the boy. Will grinned and opened his mouth.

“H- hi,” he croaked, the word scratchy against his throat. Sam dropped his book, making Deanna jump. Amy slowly turned from the stove, hand covering her mouth.

“What did you just say?” Sam asked, voice hushed. Robby shifted, smiling sheepishly and kicking his feet.

“Hi,” he croaked again. It was the strangest feeling he had ever felt; the act of speaking. He wasn’t sure he really knew how to speak; he just knew the words. Sam flew from the table to his son, Amy behind him, tears already pouring from her eyes.

“Say it again.”

“Hi d-da-dad.” A soft sob escaped Sam’s throat. Will was beside him too now, silent as he watched his parents envelope Robby into a hug, crying and kissing him and laughing with joy. Sam stood abruptly.

“Don’t move, I’ll be right back,” he said, running to the stairs and taking them two at a time. He ran down the hall, fumbling with Castiel’s doorknob before swinging it open, finding an empty room. “Cas? Cas!” Sam turned, finding Castiel in the doorway, suit and trench coat returned.

“Hello Sam.” Castiel’s eyes seemed to glow.

“Did- did you- Robby, did you-?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, voice returned to what Sam had once called normal. Sam moved forwards, gripping Castiel into yet another hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for his voice.” They stood for a moment, Sam trying to gather himself before he separated them.

“Sam, there is no need to thank me, I am just doing what is right.”

“Where will you go?” Sam asked.

“Heaven.” Sam flinched at the word.

“No, Cas, you can’t. Stay here, stay with us!” Castiel shook his head.

“It is clear to me now. I do not belong on earth, it only brings poison, pain… I should return to my home.”

“This is your home.”

“It is not.” Silence filled the space between them. “Enjoy your life, Sam.” Castiel and Sam locked eyes. Fingers trembling, Sam moved his hand forwards. Castiel accepted the handshake, moving his own arm up and down.

“I’ll miss you, Cas.”

“And I you.”

Sam was alone in the room. He took a deep breath before leaving, going back downstairs to see his son, more tears starting; all he seemed to do lately was cry.

Sam lived to be eighty-seven years old. In the remainder of his time on earth, he never saw Castiel, Angel of the Lord, again.

……….

Castiel stood in an open field, grass uncut and swaying. He slowly lowered himself to the ground, setting the small musical device beside him.

“I believe this is, as you say, cliché,” Castiel began, “but I do not care. It is what I wish to do, for myself, as well as for your soul, wherever it may be.” Castiel turned to the device and hit play, eyes reading the name on the cross again and again.

_Dean Winchester_

He closed his eyes, leaning back as the music began to play. Castiel had no idea what the song was called, but he knew it was Def Leppard and he knew Dean would enjoy it. A smile flickered across Castiel’s face as he remember their first road trip together; Dean sang this at the top of his lungs.

_“Rock of ages! Rock of ages! C’mon, Cas, are you gonna make me sing alone?”_

Castiel shook his head, smiling at the image of Dean head banging to the song. He closed his eyes once more, seeing Dean’s perfect everything as he lived in his memories, spread across the grass with the cross at his feet, music blaring in the lonely meadow.

Ari had wished Castiel peace of mind when he had left Heaven. Castiel knew that he had to go home eventually, but in his heart, he knew that the only place he would ever have peace of mind was here with Dean. When he returned, he knew that he would long to return to this place. When he was in Heaven, he would hold the memories of Dean and of this moment close. Castiel’s head swayed to the beat of the song.

In millennia, no human would remember the name Dean Winchester. He would be forgotten to everyone. No one would write epics, no human would treasure him close, no human would cherish the stories told and retold, because there would be none. No human would remember his favourite food, his music, his laugh, his kiss, his everything. It was a good thing Castiel wasn’t human.

It was a good thing Castiel had finally found his peace of mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had trouble writing this, I will admit. As you can tell, it took me longer than usual to write this up. I've been mulling it over, and was considering not posting the epilogue, but I think I needed to know that it ended differently. I feel bad ending it as I did, with so much left unsaid and undone. Even with the epilogue I feel like I've left things unanswered, but I'm posting it anyways. Thank you all again for sticking this through with me!


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